Devil's Food
by Alice Elliot
Summary: Yuuri didn't want to apply for the job. He really didn't. But the number one rule of the Shibuya household was: never attempt to defy neither will nor whim of Shibuya Miko. [Unabashed café/bakery AU. Yuuri/Wolfram.]
1. A Shot of Espresso

A/N: This all started from me misunderstanding the White Day illustration, and spiraled out of control from there. I would tell you this won't be epic and that I don't have an entire backstory and plot worked out... but it would be a lie. And so, I hope you like café AUs. Evidently, I really do. I can't think of anything to warn you about. And I'll say it now—no one is genderswapped. The main pairing is Yuuri/Wolfram, but you can expect some implied (at least) pairings on the side later. Also, I've worked at a coffee shop before, but I don't know the first thing about pastries, so please go easy on me.

This story as a whole is heavily based on the novels. All similarities to the writing are completely intentional as homages to Takabayashi Tomo.

Enjoy!

**Devil's Food**

Chapter One: A Shot of Espresso

Yuuri didn't _want_ to apply for the job. He really didn't. But the number one rule of the Shibuya household was: _never_ attempt to defy neither will nor whim of Shibuya Miko. As a pre-teen, Yuuri himself had attempted many a time to go against this rule which his older brother had informed him of in a harsh, secretive whisper at a very young age. He had learned. Oh, he had learned. An attempt of defiance had never left him with anything but extra scars on his pride on top of the consequences of whatever else his mother's command had entailed.

It was really only for that reason that, when the enthusiastic woman had come bursting through the front door one day with her arms full of carefully wrapped confectionaries, babbling full-speed about the charming smile of the man behind the counter (he had been positively _dashing_, by her account), he had reluctantly filled out the job application she had pushed into his hands. Working at what was, according to Jennifer, a 'lovely little coffee and cake shop' was not at all suitable for a baseball boy like himself, in Yuuri's opinion. Sure, there would be up-sides to getting the job: he'd be sure to see a lot of cute female customers, and the income wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, maybe he would finally be able to afford those rare, vintage baseball cards he'd longed for… In short, Yuuri was conflicted as to whether or not he actually wanted the job, but his will didn't weigh particularly heavily in the application process.

On his walk over to the interview, he decided to accept the job if offered, provided that the uniform did not include pink or pastel in any form. He'd never hear the end of it if one of his classmates saw, and his name alone was more than enough material for uncreative bullies to work with if you asked him. As it was, he'd already had to fight with his mother not to wear a soft purple dress shirt to the interview, and he'd only been able to talk her out of it by pointing out that white was more professional (as if he actually wanted the job, hah). Yuuri permitted himself a long, self-suffering sigh, since no one else was even around to hear. It was bright and early in the morning, after all, and he was just strolling down the little side street the Shibuya residence was on. The cursed café just so happened to be walking distance from his house, because some force above hated Shibuya Yuuri, fiercely. It had made it all but inevitable that his mother would stop in, and all the more difficult to dissuade her from the idea of how perfect of a job it would be for him. Sure, if he were a girl who wanted to parade around in a frilly dress serving coffee and cakes, or something.

He just needed to get the interview over with, and then he could go back to the world of playing baseball under the shining sun that he was familiar with and comfortable in. And when he arrived at the address Jennifer had written down for him in her bubbly handwriting, this conviction was only reaffirmed. A classy place like this would never hire some unrefined high schooler like him, anyways. The door was styled with swooping embellishments, a sign hanging over the glass window pane declaring the store "Open" in cursive text. And above that rested a large plaque shining in gold with the café's name: _Devil's Food_. Every corner of the building somehow managed to radiate affluence, with small touches added to the usual furnishings of the other stores lining the street.

Yuuri took the sight in with his already unusually large black eyes opened wide in amazement. How had their little neighborhood managed to attract such a fancy place? And why did his mother ever think they'd hire him? The thought of just going in was embarrassing enough, and he didn't know anymore whether or not to be grateful that Jennifer had insisted on going back to hand in his completed application herself. He nervously scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward as he approached the door.

Just as he'd finally mustered up the willpower to turn the slender golden door handle, an enraged shout came through the door as it opened. "…ridiculous! I will not be caught _dead_ in this!"

The door was already well on its way to being open by then, and it was too late for poor Yuuri to back out and make a run for it. He didn't find that quite so regretful once he'd stepped in, however, because standing there in the middle of the café floor was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Even though her face was twisted into an expression of rage, it only meant that her cheeks were flushed a charming red, and her green eyes were vibrant like none he'd seen before. To be fair, his face was probably inflamed in a similar way too by now, as his eyes drifted down to the rather short… was that a French maid uniform she was wearing!? The poor boy's mouth was left opening and closing awkwardly in silence, making him look somewhat like a gaping fish. It would only figure that when he met a gorgeous girl, he'd immediately made a fool of himself—but he hadn't even thought far enough to realize that.

"See, Wolfram?" A woman off to the side slightly whom Yuuri had failed to notice previously was speaking. She had shockingly bright red hair, tied back into a ponytail that swung back and forth as she talked animatedly. "Just as my hypothesis predicted, with this outfit, we can use your appearance to reel in regular male customers! And you'll all have me to thank when the profits come pouring in."

The girl—Wolfram, that woman had called her, what an unusual name—only looked more enraged at that, and more than a little mortified, too. She looked about ready to murder Yuuri, as a matter of fact. A strangled squeak was all he could manage, but at the very least he wasn't gaping any more.

"Like I _told_ you, Anissina," she spat out, turning back towards the other person, "I absolutely refuse to dress like a girl!"

Anissina, as she was addressed, shook her head sadly, as if lamenting the foolishness of the rest of the world. "It's a shame! You've already got Conrart here to draw in the female customer base, as well as the array of girly confectionaries. If you had a blonde beauty in a maid outfit, the men would be lined up around the corner, fighting to get in!"

While Yuuri's brain was still desperately struggling to catch up with the conversation (wait, dress…_ like_ a girl?), a third party chuckled from somewhere behind the door, which he hadn't managed to shut behind him yet. Sidestepping around the door and letting it slide shut at last, the shell-shocked teen turned to see who else was in this crazy establishment. The man behind the counter was young and handsome, and currently wearing a very becoming amused smile. Well, and a prim and proper white button-up shirt with a black vest and bow-tie. He was wearing that too, naturally.

What really surprised Yuuri about the man was the look of recognition that crossed his face as he saw their customer for the first time.

"Yuuri!" he called out warmly, still smiling. "That's right, your interview was today, wasn't it?"

"Eh!?" said boy called out in shock, hearing a stranger address him by name before he'd even introduced himself. What he didn't realize at first was that the beautiful gi—person, he wasn't quite certain anymore, had the same reaction, and they were both now staring at the man in confused dismay. "How do you know my name!?"

"What do you mean, interview!?" the blonde shouted at the same time, tapping her… their foot. Yuuri was going to avoid thinking about said person's gender until he absolutely had to.

Conrart was completely unfazed by both outbursts. "Your mother showed me photos of you when we talked the other day, Yuuri," he explained calmly. "And Wolfram, I told you that we had someone interviewing today."

A drawn-out groan was the only answer Yuuri could manage. Of course, his mom had to humiliate him before he could even meet his potential future employer. She had probably shown him the baby photos from when she'd forced him into frilly dresses, too. There was a reason she carried around multiple sets with her, after all, with digital back-ups on her cellphone.

Beside him, Wolfram laughed in what Yuuri could only call a malicious fashion. It made him wince. "I don't see the point in that," he scoffed (and now that Yuuri heard his voice properly, he had to admit that this was a boy, which _really_ made him wince), "he's clearly just a gaping fool. I refuse to work with someone like this."

"Hey!" Yuuri cried indignantly before he could stop himself, although the anger turned into a confused pile of feelings he didn't want to even attempt to label when he turned back to look at Wolfram, short maid dress and all. "You… can't say that about someone you've only just met," he finished lamely, eyes opting for the tiles of the floor as a safer resting place.

"Wolfram," Conrart interrupted before the blonde could unleash another harsh insult. "As you already know, the decision of whom to hire is one that will be made between Gwendal and I."

The boy only looked defeated for a second before he smirked, his determination renewed. "That's fine," he retorted. "I can just have a talk with Elder Brother myself."

From behind them all, Anissina snorted. Wolfram whipped his head back towards her, immediately looking offended before she'd even spoken.

"A surprisingly ingenious idea," she said around a smirk. "Old Gwendal will be sure to listen to you if you go back there and flutter your eyelashes at him in that frilly thing."

Wolfram gritted his teeth, his eyebrow twitching and his face burning scarlet. "I'll change first!" he shouted, stomping away and throwing open the door behind the counter. He was gone with a loud huff before anyone could say anything. Yuuri found himself staring at the door for a second after it closed with a thud behind him. It really was awfully unfair that the most attractive person he'd met would have to happen to be a boy in a skirt. Why did that have to happen to him twice in one life time?

"I think I'll go have a word with Gwendal myself, first," the redhead said with a smile, heading back there herself after the storm of fury had passed. She nodded at Yuuri and Conrart before disappearing into the back rooms.

"I'm sorry about that," Conrart smiled apologetically, stepping out from behind the counter and extending a hand towards the still bewildered high schooler. "My name's Conrart Weller. I'm the… co-owner, I suppose."

He… supposed? Everyone working here seemed to be a bit unusual. Yuuri smiled at the man nonetheless, shaking his hand with as much vigor as he could muster up. "Nice to meet you, Conrad—Conrart," he quickly corrected after stumbling on the name, looking sheepish.

As usual, the man seemed just as serene as before the mistake had been made. "I understand. I have some other friends who also find 'Conrart' to be a bit of a mouthful. Please, use whichever is easier for you."

He felt a little bad, but Yuuri was grateful. Even though he had his doubts about whether or not he even wanted to be hired at this point, it would have been a pain having to learn to get that 'rart' sound out correctly each time. "Thanks, Conrad!" he said with a sincere smile, already feeling some sort of kinship with this guy. He figured he must be the 'charming, dashing' man his mother had been raving about. Even as a fellow guy, he could see what she meant. He gave the impression that if he were an actor, he'd be cast to play a soldier or a knight in some period film about medieval Europe. And now that he thought of it, why did this shop seem to be full of foreigners? It probably wouldn't be proper to ask. He awkwardly withdrew his hand a moment later than would have been appropriate, groaning to himself about making a terrible first impression.

"Now, if you'll take a seat," Conrad gestured to one of the many black tables lined up across the floor, "I think that now would be a fine time to begin the interview."

"Right, right!" Yuuri rushed over to stiffly situate himself on the spindly chair, which was quite aesthetically appealing but not exactly ideal for comfort. He straightened his back as rigidly as possible, nervousness about his first job interview starting to phase back in over all the shock and embarrassment from what he had dubbed the 'maid uniform incident.'

"So, Yuuri," Conrad began as he slid smoothly into the seat across from him, "I've heard lots of good things about you from Jennifer…"

The harsh sound of the door slamming against the wall interrupted him. Standing in the vacant doorway was none other than Wolfram, his brows furrowed in rage again as his eyes searched the room.

"Where is that witch?" he seethed.

Yuuri just blinked. He was now wearing a top and vest a lot like Conrad's. Why he was furious again was totally beyond him. Surely the boy wasn't able to constantly be this angry. It would be a shame, too, since even sans maid outfit, his face was really pretty enough that he was certain to have a killer smile.

"I don't seem to recall allowing any witches into the shop," Conrad answered with a smile that said that he very well knew whom the boy meant.

Wolfram practically growled before vaulting right over the counter, one palm on the glass holding his weight as he hurtled across. _He might be pretty good if he played baseball_, Yuuri mused absently. The ease of the movement implied some pretty impressive athletic ability. It was only once the baseball thought had passed that he realized that the blonde was also wearing a pair of black shorts and white thigh-high socks. He was suitably stunned by the revelation for the next moment. Conrad, however, was chuckling.

"What _else_ would you call Anissina, then?" the beautiful boy grumbled, making his way over. He seemed to have reluctantly accepted that the woman was not to be found.

"A shrewd business woman," Conrad answered without missing a beat.

Wolfram huffed, his hands poised over his hips. "So you're going to exploit your own little brother for profit?"

Even such a harsh accusation didn't make the smile falter from the man's face. Yuuri wasn't sure if he should be impressed or creeped out by that; in all honesty, he was internally freaking out over the idea of the two being brothers. They didn't look at all alike! "From what I could see, no one forced you into either of those outfits," Conrad interrupted the boy's confused thoughts.

His cheeks now a vibrant red, the younger brother stomped his foot, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly. "She got rid of the pants that I had before," he snapped. "It was either these or nothing!"

Conrad only laughed quietly. "Ah, but you agreed to put on the dress of your own volition, did you not?"

Yuuri was fearing for his own life, even as a mere bystander, just from the sheer amount of rage Wolfram responded with. "That was… that was…" The blonde's hands moved to his side, curling into fists as he refused to meet anyone's gaze. "…In exchange for something. It was an acceptable loss."

"I see," the elder brother nodded sagely. "In any case, I'm trying to give Yuuri here a proper job interview."

Not exactly wanting to be the center of attention, Yuuri laughed awkwardly. "D- don't worry about it," he stuttered, although he wasn't quite sure what 'it' was or who shouldn't worry about said 'it.'

Wolfram scoffed and swept down into one of the seats at the table. He didn't say anything.

Conrad looked a little surprised. "Alright, then," he continued when he saw that no one else would. "I'm glad you've decided to give him a chance. Did Gwendal tell you to?"

"Look," Wolfram spat out angrily, lifting a finger to point at poor Yuuri, who felt suitably hounded and accused. "It isn't that I'm giving him a chance! When I thought about it, I realized that there could just be even worse losers out there that you could manage to find and hire. That's all."

"Hey!" Yuuri yelled before he could think things through, and this time there wasn't anything to slow down the barrage of words that followed. "I've hardly said three words since I've come in here today! How can you go around just calling a guy you've only met a few minutes ago a loser!? What about that is fair!?"

"The very fact that you've only stammered before now is enough for me to tell what a spineless wimp you are," the blonde replied, turning his face away as if offended at the sight of the other teen.

Yuuri's strangled cry of protest was interrupted by Conrad's polite cough. "Now, Wolfram," he said patiently, "Yuuri's right. And if you're only going to get in the way, I'll have to ask you to stay out of this."

Although he grumbled, Wolfram just silently turned his glare on Yuuri. He gulped under the weight of the stare.

"Now, Yuuri," Conrad attempted to start again, pleasantly surprised with his younger brother's silence. "As I was saying, I've heard a lot of good things about you. And…"

It had started a little bit after Conrad had started talking. Yuuri was sure by now that the floor was shaking underneath his feet, although at first he wrote it off as simply his own feet shaking because he was nervous and under too much stress from this odd environment. But no, there was no longer any doubt of that as there came a single, bigger tremor and what Yuuri could swear was the sound of an explosion and a man's pained scream. No one else seemed to notice it, but the boy couldn't help but jump to his feet when he heard that. Much to his surprise, Wolfram and Conrad both shook their heads at him in silence, the latter reaching out a hand in a gesture to sit back down.

"It's… best not to interfere," Conrad said slowly, casting a glance behind him almost nervously.

"But—" Yuuri opened his mouth to speak before the sound of the door banging open interrupted him. Before anyone could do anything, Anissina was running right by them in a flash of red.

"You'll thank me later, once Mr. Bakes-Cakes-Perfectly-Every-Time is perfected!" she hollered as she made a dramatic exit, disappearing down the street.

Yuuri blinked once, twice, and then sat down.

A moment passed before Wolfram paled, horror slowly taking over his expression. "It can't be…!" he muttered, as if to himself, before standing up, using the table for balance. Even Conrad looked vaguely concerned as the boy then sprinted to the back room. Yuuri had already given up on understanding what was going on.

With a shrug, Conrad turned back to him. He looked thoroughly apologetic for a moment before smiling again. It almost looked mischievous. Yuuri sat up straighter in his chair, hoping he hadn't done something terribly wrong without realizing it.

"I realize this is a tad bit unconventional for a job interview," the man stated evenly, although his smile remained evident in his eyes. "However, I just have one question for you."

Okay, now Yuuri was beyond nervous. His palms felt sweaty as he gripped his knees, mind racing. Was it some sort of pass or fail test? Panicking a little, he ran over the little bit of knowledge he had gained in his fifteen years about coffee and cake. _For example, when you brew coffee, you have to make sure there's water or nothing will come out, or that there are beans or grinds in there, because otherwise just water will come out_. Yuuri had a feeling that wasn't going to be the question though. "Y, yes?" he managed to squeak out while his mind worked fervently to recall any more minutia he'd picked up relating to this sort of thing. _Always smile when you greet the customer…?_

"Why," Conrad said the word slowly, with a dramatic pause afterwards. Or at least, the pause seemed very dramatic to Yuuri, who could hear an epic gong resounding in his head, already announcing his doom. If he looked more closely, however, he might have noticed that the ends of Conrad's lips were upturned, and he was shaking slightly from barely contained laughter. "Was six… afraid of seven?"

If his chair had not been the kind attached to the floor firmly in its place, Yuuri certainly would have fallen to the floor and taken the chair right along with him. Instead, he merely gaped at the store's co-owner, wondering how he possibly could have heard that right. Had he really asked him one of the lamest jokes of all time, as an interview question? And the worst part was that he actually looked serious.

"Um," Yuuri worked his mouth in silence for a while, debating coming up with a ridiculous new answer just in case it was a trick question. "Because…" His face heated just at the idea of how embarrassingly bad the joke he was completing was, but he decided to force the words out anyways. "…Because seven ate nine?" he laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.

Conrad outright chuckled before reaching his arm out across the table and patting Yuuri on the shoulder. "Very good," he punctuated the statement with a nod before continuing, "You're hired."

"Ehhh!?" Yuuri shouted in downright shock, without even realizing that Wolfram, who had re-entered just in time to hear the verdict, paralleled his response almost exactly.

The smiling man managed to have no reaction whatsoever to the confused yelling. "I have faith that you're the right person for this job, Yuuri," he said, sounding completely sincere.

Once he'd gathered his wits about him enough to respond properly, Yuuri scowled. "Did my mother…" he trailed off, mumbling.

Conrad shook his head. "Your mother is a wonderfully strong woman," he answered thoughtfully. "And I could tell right away that she's raised a boy who would make a fine employee for our establishment. I'm sure that you'll pick up the skills needed quite quickly."

Feeling awkward, Yuuri scratched absently at the side of his head. Somehow, this guy whom he had just met today was acting like his long lost relative. It felt kind of nice in that distant way it always did when an adult complimented him, which didn't happen all too often excluding his overly affectionate mother, but it also deeply confused the poor boy. "Eh, heh…" he laughed nervously, "Thanks?"

The exchange was interrupted by two pale fists plunging down to land with a thud on the tabletop. Wolfram was practically snarling, his brows down-turned at a harsh angle over his deep green eyes. "You can't be serious," he spat out, turning his accusatory glare to his elder brother.

For his part, Conrad merely dropped the smile, looking totally neutral. "I am," he nodded. "And I expect you to work with him, and be cooperative, showing him the ropes."

Wolfram huffed, his gaze drifting to Yuuri. Only a second passed before he started to look oddly triumphant, and declared, "We'll see how long he can last!" before storming off again.

"Well, Yuuri," Conrad smiled as he turned back to his newest employee with the disruption gone. "Can you start tomorrow, after school?"

_That soon!?_ Yuuri jumped a little in his seat, but nodded. He could already hear his mother's cry of delight at the news. He shivered.

"Great!"

Conrad stood up and started walking off towards the back room, all the while Yuuri, still stunned, merely sat there, hardly even thinking whether to follow or walk out. He was tempted to give up thinking in general, because it sure didn't help him make any sense of this weird place and the people within it (that lady from before didn't even seem to work here).

A polite cough shook him enough to ground him back in reality somewhat. "If you'll follow me, I can find you a uniform."

"Ah, right! Of course!" Yuuri practically shouted as he jumped up, making haste to follow after Conrad.

When he stepped in after the taller man into the back room, he found that it was actually a little hallway with a few branches leading into different rooms. There was a bathroom, he noted with some relief, glad he wouldn't have to run somewhere nearby or something. He'd never been sure how that worked for employees in places without public restrooms. One of the other doors was what he assumed to be the kitchen area, what with the signature double white doors with circular windows on each. He noted with some concern and dismay that a small stream of smoke was pouring out from the small gap between the doors. Within, he could see Wolfram's back, his shoulders slumped down in what appeared to be dismay. A really tall and broad-shouldered man was standing by him, reaching out a hand as if wanting to comfort him but hesitating. He was in a chef's garb, although the loose (the word 'floofy' entered Yuuri's mind at the sight) white fabric didn't suit him at all. It looked like he was talking, though, and Yuuri could almost hear… he leaned a little closer to the opening.

"…okay, really. I'll bake one for you tomorrow. With extra vanilla frosting," was what Yuuri could swear he heard the gruff, low voice of the man within saying. He blinked.

Conrad turned from the third doorway to peer curiously at the very distracted Yuuri, who was casting an owlish gaze towards the kitchen still. Shrugging, he withdrew one of the customary uniforms he'd stowed away there (with the more traditional long pants, not the racier version Wolfram was now sporting). "From what your mother told me, this size should be fine," he said with a wide smile as he held out the clothes, hoping it would snap back his attention.

As expected, Yuuri jumped and accepted the uniform sheepishly. He looked thoroughly ashamed, as a matter of fact. "Yeesh, what _didn't_ my mother tell you?"

Conrad didn't answer. He only smiled a bit wider. Yuuri hadn't even started working yet, and he already wanted to just crawl under a rock and stay there.


	2. Vol-au-vent

A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, follows, and everything! It really warmed my heart that people enjoyed the story so far! My general policy for now is to reply if anyone asks questions in a signed review, otherwise just know you have my appreciation and love. About the characterizations, I hope you're ready for gradual development and, well, Wolfram being an actual teenager.

**Devil's Food**

Chapter Two: Vol-au-vent

It's funny, really, how few things you truly noticed about everyday objects. Take wood, for example. It just kind of seemed like some stiff brown stuff that could be made into all kinds of useful things. But when you really looked closely at it, there were actually all these different colors in it, making lines and swirly patterns all over the surface.

Such were Yuuri's thoughts as he stared at the smooth material of the carefully polished counter before him. By his estimate, it must have been about an hour since he'd come to the conclusion that his only safe bet was to refuse to look up at all, and thus started his deep contemplation of the hidden nature of wood. In actuality, only something like three minutes had passed, and he hadn't made any note-worthy breakthroughs into understanding the complexities of life and forestry. He couldn't stare at the swirls any longer, he decided abruptly. They were making his head spin.

The unfortunate boy immediately regretted his decision. When he looked up, his treacherous eyes traced a path right back to what he had dubbed the 'danger zone' of the café.

Said 'danger zone' consisted of a table tucked into the corner of the floor, the only table currently occupied during the business lull. Seated there was his co-worker, Wolfram, the blonde boy most unfortunately blessed with the most breath-taking good looks Yuuri had yet to see in his tender fifteen years. He was currently deeply involved in the slow process of devouring a miniature cake, a decadent devil's food one with heaps of sweet vanilla frosting on top. He and that cake were in a world of their own, as was evinced by the light dusting of pleased pink over the boy's cheeks as he chewed slowly with his eyes closed. Not an altogether dangerous sight, one might think. But, oh, one would be wrong.

The primary issue with this scene lay within how difficult it was to look away. Yuuri was certain that it was totally normal to stare at a sight like that, and didn't blame himself one bit for it. Okay, maybe he blamed himself a little when he'd caught himself staring at the other boy's legs, which were properly crossed and still clad in rather small shorts. That hadn't lasted very long, naturally, because that just wasn't something he'd be caught doing. Except that he had been, and that had been when things got dangerous. The irritable young man across the room did not take well to being stared at, it would seem, although he didn't seem to mind when it was a room full of young girls all ogling him. Yuuri twitched at the memory. Just when he thought he'd made a break-through after fifteen years of never attracting any wanted attention, he'd realized that his dazzling co-worker took away all the glances before he even stood a chance. And, in the spirit of fairness, he couldn't really blame the ladies. It was all Wolfram's fault, with his bright green eyes and angelic golden locks. Not to mention the rest of his face.

Crap, he was staring again. Maybe he wouldn't mind that he was so good-looking quite so much if the boy wasn't so… obnoxious. Yuuri didn't like to think ill of others, but Wolfram had seriously left him no choice. The whole work day so far had consisted of one harsh criticism after another, even though Conrad had told his brother to instruct him. Wasn't the rule one reward for two punishments? And yet whenever the newcomer managed a success, it went without comment. But when he failed…

Yuuri sighed and looked away in defeat. Wolfram, who had been glaring in silence ever since he'd noticed the gaze, returned to eating with a quiet huff. That cake had to disappear eventually, or the poor, misplaced baseball boy was going to lose his mind. At the very least, Conrad had to come back soon to take his mind off of all this. He'd found the older man to be reliably good company, despite his rather… off-beat sense of humor.

At the very least, he was easier company than Wolfram and the other brother. Yuuri's eyebrow twitched at the memory of his first meeting with the imposing man. He had suddenly emerged from the kitchen, opening the door right in Yuuri's face, only to glare at him as if scolding him for having the nerve to dare to put his face in the baker's way. And just how the heck could those three all be brothers? Yuuri's poor head was pounding.

Fortunately, the sound of the bell above the door tinkling distracted the boy from his increasingly painful reverie (his forehead still sported the band-aid that a strangely insistent Wolfram had covered the wound with, even). Warm conversation drifted in, which normally would have been a comfort—but he recognized the voices, and suddenly the hair on the back of Yuuri's neck was standing on end.

"Mom!?" he called out in distress, as surely enough his own mother stepped through the door to the café, a grocery bag held in her arms as she talked animatedly to none other than Conrad.

She turned her bright smile to him instead after he'd called for her attention. "Oh, my little Yuu," she cried as she stepped toward the counter, stars in her eyes. "Your mama just has the best luck, always running into handsome strangers! Although I suppose he's not a stranger anymore. And I had just been thinking that I'd need to drop in to check on you during your first day of work…"

Yuuri couldn't bear to listen to the monologue the whole way through, opting instead to cast a despairing glance towards Conrad. The café's owner was standing just behind Jennifer, his usual easy smile on his face.

"I was quite fortunate to run into your mother, Yuuri," he answered the silent appeal to interrupt Ms. Shibuya's rambling. "And she very kindly offered to help me carry back the emergency supplies we needed."

Conrad must have been one of the few people on earth with a disposition so unshakably positive that even his mother couldn't wear him down, Yuuri mused with a sigh. Now that he thought about it, actually, it was really the 'handsome stranger's' fault that he'd been forced into applying for the job in the first place. Did he have any allies!?

Before Yuuri could come up with something to say, Wolfram cleared his throat from his place at the table. Somehow, it seemed that he had managed to devour the remaining cake in such a small amount of time, even though the process of taking a bite had been so painstaking before. Yuuri's mouth hung open in disbelief, making his usual accidental fish impression. Had that torture been intentional?

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your mother, Yuuri?"

_Why would I? And what's with that petulant tone?_ Yuuri thought, but wisely kept the sentiments to himself. He was starting to get the hang of dealing with his co-worker by now, and had learned that snapping back at him only made things worse. Very, very much worse.

"Oh, um," he stuttered a little, "Mom, this is my co-worker, Wolfram…"

Well, this was awkward. He didn't even know his last name. And for some reason, he had the feeling that would somehow offend the proud boy, but when he looked back to Wolfram, he was wearing a strangely satisfied smile. Yuuri really didn't know what to think.

Jennifer spun around from where she stood by the counter, setting the grocery bag down on it. "Oh my," she exclaimed, sounding positively delighted. "Nice to meet you, dear! I'm happy that my Yuu gets to work with such a fine young man."

_Fine-looking, maybe_, Yuuri's mind supplied unhelpfully in his best sarcastic tone.

"Thank you, Mother," Wolfram said with an eerily charming smile that gave Yuuri shivers (just because it was creepy to see it on his face, of course). "The pleasure is all mine."

Although his mother was busy cooing with joy over this new discovery of Wolfram, Yuuri's mind was at its limits. "Wait, wait, hold on a second," he shouted all at once, before taking a breath and continuing. "Why are you suddenly all polite!? I haven't seen you like that once since I met you, even when you're serving customers! I mean, they'd practically be throwing money at us if you smiled like that… No, no, that's not the point! Why are you calling my mom 'Mother'!?"

By the time the words were done tumbling out of his mouth, Yuuri was red faced and breathing hard, his accusing finger trembling dramatically as he pointed at the other boy.

"What else do you expect me to call her, when you don't even have the courtesy to tell me her name?" Wolfram scoffed, his arms crossed against his chest.

"You can call me Jennifer," Miko supplied helpfully from the side lines, while her son huffed and puffed, spluttering a little. "Or Mama!"

The silent stand-off (if it could be called that) between the two boys continued for another moment before Conrad's calm voice broke it off prematurely. This was rather fortunate, indeed, since the only likely conclusion was Yuuri's mind simply giving up and him passing out. "Thank you, Ms. Shibuya, for all your help bringing these back. Could I offer you a complimentary pastry for your efforts, perhaps?"

Somehow, Yuuri could imagine a single twinkle coming off of Conrad's perfect teeth as he smiled.

Jennifer giggled, sounding positively delighted. "Oh, you're too kind! I'd be honored. And it's Jennifer, please," she practically purred, stars in her eyes.

Her son buried his forehead into his open palms, counting down from one hundred in his head. Having to witness his own mother flirting was particularly high on Yuuri's list of 'Experiences I would very much like to never have again.' Much to his surprise, while he was attempting to block out the outside world entirely, he felt the weight of a hand drop onto his shoulder. Cautiously, he cracked an eye open, only to see that it was none other than Wolfram, who had made his way over from across the café while Yuuri had been busy pitying himself. The even greater surprise was that the usually irritated boy was actually looking at him with an expression that spoke of sympathy, if not even commiseration. He barely had time to blink, however, before the image and hand both were gone, and he had to wonder if it had just been some angelic vision borne from heaven's sympathy, which just happened to look exactly like Wolfram.

When Yuuri's mind came back down to reality, his mother's brown eyes were shining as she waved at him, her mouth still busily chattering away. "Now, have a good time for the rest of your shift, Yuu! Mama will have dinner ready and waiting on the table when you get back home."

"O, okay," he gulped, grateful that she was leaving of her own volition (he'd never hear the end of it if he forced her out the door). "Thanks, mom."

"Mama, Yuu! Mama," Jennifer tossed over her shoulder as she stepped outside, leaving a slightly bewildered silence in her wake. Yuuri felt vaguely guilty for being so grateful that his mother was gone, although he was still mildly worried about the terribly flirty atmosphere from before. And now that he thought of it, it seemed like Conrad was still smiling in the general direction of the door.

"I hope you two managed the store well without me," he said after a moment of silence, a slightly amused overtone to his voice.

Wolfram, from where he was now leaning with one elbow over the glass counter, huffed, without even bothering to lift his eyes from the collection of cakes beneath. "Of course we did," he answered before Yuuri could pipe in. "For a wimp, Yuuri did learn how to deal with customers pretty quickly."

The way he had said it was completely nonchalant, but now something seemed suspicious about the avid stare concentrated on the line of pastries. Yuuri, for his part, wasn't sure if he had been insulted or complimented. His stomach wasn't sure if it should be roiling with indignant anger or dancing with butterflies. Wait, why would his stomach be doing either of those things? Right, he'd skipped lunch.

"It's not so hard for my first job," Yuuri opted to actually answer Conrad instead, with a sheepish smile. He still felt a little weird about actually getting hired so easily. Didn't it normally take more than one whirlwind day before you were on the team?

"I'm glad, Yuuri," Conrad nodded serenely. He really was like some sort of saint.

There was a moment of silence. To Yuuri, this seemed not like a moment but rather a stretch across eternity during which only the sound of the clock ticking filled the café. Sweating a little, he wondered why it had been so long since customers had come into the shop, anyways. What broke the silence was not a smiling female customer like the boy had been hoping, but rather the familiar tones of Mito Koumon's classic opening theme. And the only source of that could be… his cellphone!? Yuuri jumped, his hands flying up from where they'd been resting on the counter. He wasn't exactly a social outcast, but most of the phone calls he received were from one of two people. His mother had just left, so she was scratched off the list. This only left… his over-protective, paranoid older brother. Goose bumps rose off his skin as Yuuri turned dramatically towards the coat rack his bag was hanging off of in the back corner. The whole bag shook a little as his old phone desperately tried to make the caller's intent known. He stared motionlessly for a few seconds, just listening to his ringtone.

Conrad coughed politely. "You can pick it up, you know," he indicated the general area of the phone with a wave of his hand, "Wolf and I can handle any customers that might come in. Don't worry about it."

Gulping, Yuuri nodded. Now there was no escape route. Even Shouri would have had to understand if he'd been unable to pick up because he was on the job. His mind filled with unpleasant scenarios that may have warranted the phone call, Yuuri trudged on over to the coat rack. He quietly prayed that the caller would hang up during the time it took him to fumble through the contents of his bag, but sadly the phone was still vibrating when his hand made contact with it. Resigned, Yuuri flipped the old, clunky thing open before pressing it to his ear.

"Hello," he dredged out, practically cringing in preparation for a verbal onslaught from the other line.

Much to his surprise, a much quieter voice responded. "Shibuya?"

It was Murata Ken's voice. Yuuri's eyebrows shot up in surprise before he smiled, deeply relieved. So it wasn't exactly normal for his friend to call out of the blue, but it meant he'd at least avoided his older brother another day. "Murata! Hello!" he answered all too cheerily, silently praising the other boy as his savior from the frightening brother-complex.

If he noticed the sudden change in tone, the caller didn't mention it. "I was wondering where you were. I didn't see you along the normal route!"

"Ah," Yuuri sucked in a breath. It had become a sort of routine since the beginning of the school year that the two met up along the way home. Just earlier that year, Murata had been innocently making his way by the park when he'd met Yuuri outside of class for the first time—and nearly had his nose flattened by a stray baseball. The bare miss, only avoided by an epic dash on Yuuri's part, had been a bit of a catalyst to making them into actual friends. It figured that they would only become close after graduating from the class they'd shared and going into separate high schools. "I was just in a rush," he explained quickly, not wanting to go into any further detail.

"I see," Murata said evenly, and yet to Yuuri it sounded like a clever shroud concealing the fact that he already knew everything behind the excuse. He probably did.

See, Murata was certainly his friend. Yuuri knew that much. At least, he thought so, most of the time. But he had also figured out fairly quickly into their friendship that the boy was a bit…eccentric. This did not make him any different from all of the other people close to Yuuri, but it did mean that he was not particularly eager to introduce him to the rest of the bunch. It was bad enough that he had already befriended his mother… Yuuri shivered a little, before tuning back in to the phone call.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "You didn't call just for that, though, did you?"

"Ah, you saw right through me!" Listening to his friend's voice, Yuuri could visualize all too easily the dangerous smirk he could get, and the way his glasses somehow managed to reflect light specifically when he was plotting. "I actually was wondering if you were free this Saturday, after school."

Now that hadn't been the evil master plan Yuuri had anticipated. He blinked, glancing sideways at his phone as if it could transmit his suspicion to Murata on the other end. Actually, knowing Murata, he probably could guess already just how Yuuri was eying his phone. "I guess I am," he answered, before he'd actually had time to think it through. A second later, he remembered that he now had a job—a fact he had managed to forget while standing in his very workplace. His free hand flew up to slap his own forehead as he groaned.

"Oh, come on, it's not so bad hanging out with your old buddy Muraken once in a while, is it?"

"It's not that," Yuuri gritted out miserably. "As long as it's not Sea World again, I guess…"

"Nope, no dolphins this time!" Murata's sunny voice answered. "I was actually hoping you'd come to my school's festival. They're really desperate to get more people to come and support the event, and my class president's been begging everyone since the start of the school year… plus, she's a real looker."

Yuuri sighed at the waggish tone in his friend's voice. Sometimes he really wondered about the other boy. "Fine, fine," he sighed. "I'll see you there, then. I have some stuff going on the rest of the week, so I might be in a hurry after school still…"

He dragged off, hoping Murata wouldn't pursue the obviously dubious excuse. It was only really half an excuse, anyways. Relief flooded him when Murata just said, "Sure thing, Shibuya! Tell Mama I said hi!" before hanging up.

Yuuri only realized how tense he'd been when all the tightness released from his shoulders at the sound of his phone clicking shut. It felt something like just barely touching base before the ball made contact with the catcher's glove.

"Sorry about that." He shot an apologetic glance at Conrad as he headed back to the counter, even though from the sounds of it a single customer had still yet to appear.

Conrad just shook his head, the usual grin on his face. "Hardly a problem, not during a dead hour like this."

By the time Yuuri was back in place, he noticed that a certain blonde had been oddly silent on the matter, when his usual pattern was to immediately chime in with some sort of double-edged comment. When he looked to where Wolfram was still standing, he was met with a fierce green glare (and wow, he couldn't wait until those eyes were no longer quite so impressive to look at, although something told him it would take a while to get used to something like that). Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask what he'd done wrong, though, his co-worker had pushed himself up off from the counter and stomped his way over to the back door. It slammed behind him, but that was about the only sound in the café for the next minute.

"Well," Conrad started eventually, seeing Yuuri's confused dismay, "he has a lot on his mind."

That didn't really help. Yuuri grumbled a little, dramatically slumping down on the counter. "I give up! No matter what I say or don't say, I make him angry. Don't you have any advice, Conrad?"

"Regretfully, I don't, Yuuri." He'd said 'regretfully,' but Conrad was still smiling as he regarded the lamenting newcomer. "But you've already managed to get along with him quite well, it seemed to me."

"What!?" The expression practically exploded forth from Yuuri's mouth. He looked at Conrad as if he had just told him that he was from Mars, or actually a member of some demon race, or something. He practically had. "If that's getting along…"

"He has his own ways of expressing himself," Conrad answered with all too much mirth in his voice. There was also a certain sense of finality emanating from the statement, almost a warning that he wouldn't speak any more on the subject.

Although he grumbled a little more, tossing his head to the side to look imploringly at his employer, Yuuri didn't ask about Wolfram anymore. That didn't mean that he didn't have some other concerns left to voice without delving into that territory, however. "I've been meaning to ask, though… who was that lady from yesterday, um…" he trailed off, testing a few different names against his memory, before declaring triumphantly, "Anyshina!"

Conrad chuckled heartily at his guess, but somehow it sounded kind enough that Yuuri didn't even feel offended. "Anissina," he corrected once he'd gathered his wits. "She's Gwendal's childhood friend, actually."

"Ehh!?" Yuuri found himself calling out for the second time in that conversation alone, straightening up from where he'd been slouched over. "That grumpy ponytail guy has someone like her as a childhood friend?"

His shoulders rising and falling as he laughed quietly, Conrad nodded. "He does indeed. Her family's been friends with ours for a few generations now, back in Germany. She's just visiting for now, to keep an eye on us men."

"Germany!" Yuuri's mouth hung open in an 'o' shape as comprehension dawned. So they were all from abroad, then. "But then…" he dropped into a contemplative silence as the cogs worked in his head. One question in particular kept popping back up. "How do you all speak such perfect Japanese?"

"Didn't you notice?" Conrad was clearly trying to conceal his mirth, but his smile betrayed him. "Wolfram has a bit of an accent. He probably thinks you've already noticed it. He's quite self-conscious about it, but it can hardly be helped. He's the only one of us who didn't spend a good deal of his youth here."

Yuuri grabbed hold of a few clusters of his hair, cradling his head in his hands. He tried to re-play Wolfram speaking in his mind, but his memory hadn't picked up on any flaws in the other boy's Japanese at all. As a matter of fact, the only flaws coming to mind were personality flaws… "He sounds fine to me," he muttered quizzically at last. "I really don't get him… or any of this!"

Conrad chuckled a bit more as Yuuri threw his hands up into the air with a strangled cry of defeat. "We've all had to move around quite a bit," he offered as a consolatory explanation. "But, hopefully, things should settle down for him at least, now."

"Maybe he'll stop yelling so much, then…" Yuuri muttered, half to himself.

"You should go back there and talk things out with him," Conrad gestured to the door, his tone encouraging. "He'll be happy, I'm sure."

Yuuri laughed a little, suddenly feeling awkward. "Does that mean he'll hit me?"

Conrad's laughter soon joined in, but once it subsided, he looked very much serious about the matter. Gulping, Yuuri eventually resigned himself to the task. After all, he'd probably been judging his co-worker too harshly, thinking he'd just led some spoiled life as a rich and beautiful kid. But it wasn't in his nature to be spiteful over material advantages like that, and he really did want to get along. He nodded decisively before peddling around, and only then did he remember what he'd needed from Conrad from the start.

"Oh, wait!" he called out loudly, seemingly out of nowhere, before turning back to his boss. "Could I take a day off this Saturday? I know I already asked for the late shift on Thursday, but just this one Saturday…" Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, clasping his hands together in an apologetically beseeching motion.

When Conrad 'hmm'ed thoughtfully, Yuuri thought he was doomed. He opened his eyes cautiously, only to see that the usually serene man was frowning contemplatively. He gulped.

"I suppose we could manage," Conrad answered eventually, sounding reluctant. "Since you did agree to work so many hours on such short notice, it only seems fair."

With a relieved smile, Yuuri did a little celebratory dance (which just consisted of stepping back and forth a few times while swinging his arms). "Thank you, Conrad! I'll make it up to you by getting along with Wolfram from now on," he said, and wished it hadn't come off as quite so much of a joke.

Conrad seemed to take it as one, anyways, if his amused smile was any indication. "Good luck," he called after Yuuri's retreating form as he bravely stepped into the back area of the café.

What he saw once he stepped into the only partially lit little hallway surprised him. Wolfram was standing there, leaning against the door to the kitchen, seemingly engrossed in typing away on his cellphone. His skin looked particularly pale with the odd lighting from the electric screen. It took Yuuri a moment to realize that he was staring, and also that a strangely cute little creature was dangling from the foreign, expensive-looking cellphone. The phone-strap looked almost like a teddy bear, but with butterfly wings—no, that wasn't quite right. It seemed more like a bee than a butterfly, for some reason he couldn't place. Yuuri figured it was some mascot figure popular with Europeans. He had to admit that it was cute.

Suddenly feeling a little awkward at his entrance going totally unnoticed, Yuuri cleared his throat politely. Wolfram's head immediately snapped up, his eyes wide. Within the next second, the phone had been slammed shut and shoved into the classy bag Yuuri hadn't even noticed before then, which was hidden away with the spare uniforms.

"Wait, if there are spare uniforms, why are you still wearing the shorts version?" His mouth moved to voice the question as soon as the implication set in, without giving him time to remember his real purpose. Yuuri cursed himself only once it was already too late.

Wolfram huffed before replying all too quickly, "I'll have you know, that you happen to have received the rest of the pairs of the regular length pants in my size!"

"Well, sorry for being the same size," Yuuri mumbled petulantly, returning the glare he got in response.

"Did you come back here just for something trivial like that?" Wolfram spat out, looking severely irked. "What does it matter to you what I wear, anyways?"

"No, no!" Yuuri cried, shaking his head as he reminded himself not to get caught up in bickering again. "I wanted to ask you what was the matter, actually."

Now that seemed to throw Wolfram for a total loop. He stared at Yuuri for a moment before coloring slightly, although Yuuri thought it might just be his imagination in the poor lighting. "Wh- what?" he asked after a moment, his mouth twisted uncertainly.

"You got upset and ran back here earlier, didn't you? What happened? Did I do something?" Yuuri lifted his hands up in a gesture of surrender, smiling his best peace-maker smile.

When he saw Wolfram's reaction, Yuuri thought he might understand the other boy just a little bit. If he believed Conrad, at least, Wolfram was happy that someone had thought of him—and maybe a bit embarrassed, and then that embarrassment turned into anger. It seemed far-fetched to Yuuri, especially since it really looked like Wolf was just pissed at him. (Oh no, he'd have to be careful not to call him 'Wolf' out loud; Conrad's nickname for his brother was accidentally catching!)

"Who says it has anything to do with you!?" Wolfram exploded all at once, his body turned away defensively, with his arms crossed over his front.

"Oh, I did kind of notice it," Yuuri was speaking before he could stop himself again, a proud smile on his face. "But it's only when you start talking too fast because you're mad, I think. Most of the time your Japanese sounds totally natural!"

Wolfram's mouth hung open in disbelief, his cheeks suffused with color. "Wh… what…!" he half-choked out, and for a moment Yuuri was afraid he was going to pass out. He didn't, however, and actually only seemed to transfer more of his energy into getting angry. "Are you simply looking for criticisms to give me? Do you think I don't already know that I have an accent…! You, you…"

If he kept breathing like that, Wolfram would surely pass out, Yuuri thought. "No, no!" he cried defensively, waving his hands in what was hopefully a calming gesture. "I just meant that you hardly have an accent at all. And anyways, you're the one looking for things to criticize me on all the time!"

Something about that seemed to at least partially pacify Wolfram. If things kept up at this rate, Yuuri could already sense that soon enough he'd have a 'Wolfram anger meter' worked out in his mind. Right now, he'd guess that Wolfram had just dropped from a 10 to an 8. At the very least, he'd gone from 'yelling' to 'pouting,' it seemed.

"Was that your girlfriend on the phone?" he snapped after a lull of silence.

Yuuri almost thought he'd misheard. "Wha…?" His mouth hung open, totally flabbergasted as he was. Now that had truly come from nowhere. "That was…" Actually, the thought of Murata as his girlfriend was positively hysterical. Even the thought of him having a girlfriend was kind of funny, as much as he hated to admit it—he'd never even gotten a prank love letter before. He was laughing before he knew it, clutching at his abdomen as he shook with peals of laughter.

"What!?" Wolfram shouted, his hands on his hips as he directed a fierce glare at his co-worker, who still hadn't managed to stop laughing. "Are you making fun of me?"

Just as he looked to be making to flee, Yuuri held out his hands in a gesture for Wolfram to stop. "No, no," he managed to breathe, calming down from the fit of mirth. "That was just a friend from school. He's a guy, anyways. Although I don't get why it matters…"

He still couldn't help but smile, although he really wondered why Wolfram looked so embarrassed. Maybe he didn't have a girlfriend himself, and the thought that someone like Yuuri did hurt his pride. Something about it wouldn't have surprised Yuuri. He was like a little scruffy dog while Wolfram was some… majestic lion or something.

"It doesn't," the blonde huffed, not looking Yuuri in the eyes. Okay, maybe he wasn't a lion, but rather one of those fluffy little dogs that were always getting pampered by their rich lady owners, yet still never stopped yapping.

A Pomeranian, Yuuri decided, barely managing to keep it to himself. A yapping Pomeranian.

"Anyways," Wolfram was saying as Yuuri contemplated dog metaphors, "I was thinking that you'd better give me your number. Knowing how your mind works, you could very well forget to even come in at all, and you'll need me to remind you."

Yuuri blinked at Wolfram, who was for all appearances completely serious about this. He looked mighty haughty, too, but he did seem to be blushing a little. For his part, Yuuri wasn't sure if he should be insulted or complimented, but he decided not to even think about the complimented option (after all, why would he feel happy about a guy asking for his number?).

"Um," Yuuri managed to say before Wolfram's phone was pushed into his fingers, which wrapped around it before he could think about it too much. "Okay, I guess," he laughed awkwardly as he stared at the menu for a second. None of it was written in Japanese, but since he could read roman characters, at the very least, it was fairly easy to figure out how to put his name and number in there.

When Yuuri had stopped typing, Wolfram all too quickly plucked the phone back out from his fingers, checking the new information with a satisfied smirk. "Great," he said as he pulled his bag out to drop the phone back in, "now I'll be able to check in on you when business demands it."

"Right, right," Yuuri laughed awkwardly, sweating a little. The excuse seemed odd, even to someone with as thick a skull as his, but he didn't want to risk commenting on it. He quietly hoped that Wolfram wouldn't end up sending him barrages of texts throughout the day, berating him for random behaviors of his choosing. Actually, hopefully he wouldn't use the number at all.

Okay, so maybe he didn't quite hope that. He kind of hoped that he did end up using it, just a little. _So that we can become friends, of course_, Yuuri thought with a smile. It just wasn't in his nature to have such a tense relationship.


	3. Strawberry Shortcake

A/N: This is the last chapter of extremely slow set-up... I promise. I hope everyone will hang in there with me and continue enjoying the story! Thank you all!

**Devil's Food**

Chapter 3: Strawberry Shortcake

There was always just a brief moment of total silence. Only a few seconds total, after the door closed and the sound of the car's engine faded off into the background, when Gwendal could enjoy complete repose. He always sucked in a large breath and held it, his eyes sliding closed, his muscles finally relaxing a little. Just those few seconds, and then he had to let all the breath back out again, and take the rest of the steps into the back of the café.

It was still pretty quiet back there, with only the reverberations of his footsteps as he made the rounds to start up the ovens. Certainly, it was a relief after the rather high tones of his baby brother snapping at a thankfully quiet Conrart that he had to endure all morning, every morning. Gwendal loved his family, let no mistake be made. But sometimes, he would find himself longing for the emptiness of the back room, when no loud voices drifted back to disturb his peace. But in a few more minutes, the ovens were all humming quietly, and the climate control whirred as it worked away the early Autumn morning chill. That was when Gwendal bid farewell to his silence. Sliding into his chair by the small table officially designated as his "office," which was in actuality a cramped corner of the kitchen, the baker allowed himself one last long sigh. Preparing himself for the worst, he pushed down on the ominously flashing red button on the telephone receiver. And no, it never failed to flash red—that would have allowed him too much peace.

"Five new messages," the automated voice crooned from the receiver. Gwendal grumbled a little and decided he needed a warm mug filled with something sweet a bit earlier than usual that morning.

By the time he returned to his seat, pastel pink mug (with a panda's face painted on the side, of course) firmly in hand, the fourth message was just about winding up. A complaint from the neighboring business concerning the sudden loud noises and possible explosions occurring on a daily basis, two inquiries about job opportunities, and one confused elderly lady looking for her nephew… Gwendal took a carefully measured sip from his hot chocolate. It was a little too hot against his tongue.

"Good evening, Gwendal!" a loud voice cut in immediately after the beep signaling the end of the fourth message. It was a voice that had long been engraved firmly into the recesses of Gwendal's mind, the dark and frightening corners that he tried not to think about. He barely repressed a shiver of dread. It was Anissina. "I'm calling to inform you that I've managed to hit up some great old contacts who are also right here in the city. Who would have thought? I went ahead and gave them the new address of the place. They could probably become a saving grace for the business… well, one of them at least. I can't babysit you three forever, after all!"

_Nor do we want you to_, Gwendal thought as his eyebrow twitched involuntarily. The mug shook a little in his hand, but he steadied it with some effort.

"And, you might not believe it, but I ran into Günter and Josak yesterday, too. Did you even know they're here? Honestly, one would think you've never even poked your head outside of that tiny little shop since you got here. I just have to do all the work for you, don't I? That's why I always say, men-"

_We do have a business to run here, unlike you!_ Gwendal's finger swooped down to press the button with the word "delete" printed on it, cutting off the message prematurely. He simply was not feeling amiable enough that morning to sit through one of his fiery childhood friend's impassioned rants on the superiority of females.

It just wouldn't do to let himself boil over in frustration, however. His hands twitched a little as he stood up before striding over to check on the oven he'd loaded first and foremost. The small digital display proudly proclaimed 30 seconds until completion. Gwendal nodded, satisfied. This first batch of simple bread had become the most important part of his morning routine for the past days. No one else knew about this particular batch, either—and if Conrart did notice the slight discrepancy in quantities of bread used up in the day, he either assumed them to be casualties of Anissina's furtive attempts at "improving" the baking process, or simply deemed not to comment. Gwendal was glad, either way.

His thick oven mitts covering his huge hands, Gwendal was lifting the small tray out from the heat before long. His chilled nostrils filled up with the warm, sweet-smelling air. Moments like that helped him remember why he didn't regret his decision to go into baking, after all. But that wasn't the real reward of the endeavor, no. Despite himself, he swept the room with his eyes to make sure Conrart had not returned prematurely before making his way to the back door. He stuck out his foot, balancing the tray in both hands as he lifted the door open with one leg.

Sure enough, there he was. He greeted the large man with his usual call—a treasured part of their routine. Gwendal felt his cheeks heat up despite the chilly air outside as he heard the tiny mewl.

"Good morning," he muttered roughly under his breath. Only the quiet sound of paws padding across asphalt answered, the young cat traversing the alley to meet his benefactor. Ever so carefully, Gwendal slid the tray from his mitted hands to rest on the ground. "Did you get through the cold night okay, Marbo?"

The kitten, christened Marbo, opened his mouth wide to meow at the appearance of food within his line of sight. His little tawny ears twitched a little, his pink button of a nose working furiously to take in the pleasant smell of the fresh rolls. Gwendal's lips twitched into a small smile as the kitten put his paws on the tray, reaching out with his tongue to test out the closest roll. He sunk his still developing teeth into it after meowing in approval.

It seemed that Marbo lived in the little alleyway behind the café. Gwendal had only happened upon the small, malnourished cat by chance while closing the second evening or so that they'd been open. It hadn't taken long for the two of them to fall into this routine, although at first the baker had restricted himself to feeding the kitten left-overs. The fourth morning or so, however, a mysteriously unnecessary batch of rolls had found their way into his oven before opening. Would it not have been a tragic waste not to feed them to the hungry kitten waiting outside?

—-Tuesday, Evening-time—-

The bed rose up to meet Yuuri as he let himself fall onto it with a solid "oof." Fortunately his blankets were carefully maintained by his mother, and their soft fluffiness was like a blessing. Diving headlong into his first part-time job had certainly made the teen's life more interesting, but it wasn't easy on his feet. Most likely, he'd get used to it soon, but in the meantime he contemplated doing his baseball stretches before a workday. Wolfram would probably use it as a reason to yell at him. Still, even work wasn't as tiring as his mother's enthused questioning about it. She wanted to know all the gossip he'd overheard from customers, how he was getting along with that adorable co-worker of his, when he was going to bring his new friend over for dinner, and above all how that handsome owner was doing. Yuuri felt lucky for managing to escape after he'd scarfed down his dinner.

Just as he was letting out a huge intake of relieved breath, he noticed his bag shifting a little from where he'd slung it down on the floor beside his bed. He froze up, staring at it. Briefly, he considered the possibility that a rogue squirrel had managed to launch itself from a tree and land in his bag without him noticing it, hoping to stow away and eat them out of house and home. _Nice try, ninja squirrel_, he thought with a triumphant smirk. _…I must be more tired than I thought, if I really just thought that._

There was only one other possibility: his phone had just vibrated because he had received a text message.

That was far more terrifying than the prospect of the ninja squirrel to Yuuri. The only person who knew his number and sent texts happened to be his brother, Shouri (Murata claimed not to have a texting plan on his phone, and Jennifer always preferred calls). Well, there had been that one time when he got an eerie text signed "BOB," but he wrote that off as a prank. He tried not to think about it too much. Dread in his heart, Yuuri stared at the innocuous bag from where he lay, cheek pressed to his blankets. It took a minute for him to gather up the resolve to push himself off the bed with a soft grunt and snatch the bag up off the floor.

Surely enough, the little screen on his old flip phone proudly proclaimed by means of a flashing envelope icon that he had one new text. He couldn't help but cringe as he opened the phone, expecting a reprimanding message from his picky older brother.

"Hello, wimp. I'm letting you know just because you might not have noticed, but you've been doing a pretty good job so far."

Yuuri blinked as if in slow-motion. He read the words again before rubbing at his eyes, just in case they had managed to get some sort of dirt in them that caused him to hallucinate text messages. The sender was simply listed as an unknown number, but he would have had to be daft not to realize who had sent it. Only one person was weirdly fond of calling him "wimp." His eye twitched a little, and not just because it had been so abused just now. Still, it was an almost weirdly… nice message, considering how scathing his co-worker tended to be face to face.

As the second wave of realizations hit him, Yuuri panicked briefly over how Wolfram had managed to get his number. Fortunately, it was only a short moment before he recalled the odd little scene from the other day, when he had practically forced it out of him. There were a lot of mysteries in this world, something Yuuri knew all too well, and Wolfram was pretty high up there on his list right now. He just didn't get him, even though he was another boy of the same age (he assumed, at least).

_Well_, he thought with a sigh, _I may as well add his number to my contacts._

After struggling with the character input for the foreign name and leaving an awkward blank space where his last name should be, Yuuri was forced to consider how to reply. He couldn't just leave the attempt at contact as it was. After all, he'd been determined to fix their rather awkwardly tense relationship. And if Wolfram was reaching out to him, that meant there was some kind of hope. Did he need to still be rude about it though?

In the end, his irritation getting the better of him, he ended up sending, "Don't call me that! And if I did a good job, why am I still a wimp?"

Exactly sixty seconds of lying on his back and blinking up at the ceiling later, his phone vibrated again from its new resting place beside Yuuri. His eyebrow raised, he flipped it open. It all felt too calculated to him. "One good day doesn't change anything about you being a wimp. I don't call you that because you do a bad job, anyways. You're just a wimp."

He groaned softly, reading the flickering words on the screen. It just figured that Wolfram would type out his messages without taking any shortcuts, and reply in an extremely timely fashion. Heaven forbid he did anything imperfectly! Some nagging, suspiciously Conrad-like voice from the back of his mind supplied the idea that perhaps Wolfram acted like that because he was insecure and lonely. Most of his mind, however, was occupied with conjuring up the image of the blonde boy sitting daintily in some lavish room by a fire place, a full tea set on the table beside him as he typed away on his fancy cellphone with a smug smirk (nevermind that the cellphone seemed almost anachronistic in the very aristocratic setting his mind had dropped Wolfram into). The image actually made him smile just slightly, for some reason he couldn't place.

"Now that I think of it though," he mumbled to himself, content that no one was around to hear him, "I did promise to get along with him. And I guess I'm getting closer bit by bit to understanding him…"

Lesson number one being, of course, that he evidently didn't mean any of what he said the way he said it. Yuuri couldn't imagine living like that, but then again, everyone always told him that every single thought that popped into his head found its way out of his mouth. They didn't really know the half of it, though. Even if that was a rather discouraging starting point, Yuuri really did want to become friends with the other boy. Resolved anew, he set about composing a reply. At least twice as much time as Wolfram had taken to answer had already passed while he'd been contemplating life and the future.

"I'm trying my best! That's all I can do." Yuuri stared at the keyboard for a while, chewing his bottom lip idly. Text message conversations were unexpectedly difficult. It would really be a lot easier if he just called me, he thought with a sigh. In the end, he hit send with just those words after hesitating over adding anything more. He was suddenly grateful for Murata's (supposed) lack of a texting plan. It was actually frightening to imagine having to reply to whatever sort of enigmatic phrase his friend would most likely text him out of the blue.

The minute or so that passed before his cellphone shook again was spent in what seemed to Yuuri like an eternity of dreadful anticipation. After all, even if he wanted to get along, there was no guarantee that Wolfram wasn't just contacting him outside of work so that he could get in more time to make fun of him. What else would a rich European beauty like him want with the average baseball boy? Actually, once Yuuri thought of it that way, it seemed a little bit too much like the tagline for one of those romantic comedy movies his mother adored. With the idea that things were not progressing in that direction, not at all, firmly in his head, Yuuri flipped open his cellphone. "I know. But I thought you might need a little extra push. And despite how he may seem, Conrart's actually a tougher teacher than I am in many ways."

Despite himself, Yuuri almost smiled. As puzzling as the message was, he could almost swear that Conrad's advice had been right after all. Wolfram didn't hate him, and he meant well. That thought served as a sort of mantra for him as he typed rather nervously: "Thanks." Even though it was only a few characters, it took him a good minute of staring at the phone before he sent it. He was definitely thinking way too hard about this. Wolfram was just some (way too pretty) guy from work, and he shouldn't be worrying so much about all this.

_It just would be nice if we could be friends_, he thought as he tossed his phone aside, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling light. It failed to spill through his fingers in the picturesque way the sunset usually did in movies. He closed his eyes, allowing himself one last little sigh over the confusing matter. His workplace in general was just way too taxing on his mind, he decided firmly. Sadly, schoolwork didn't just disappear now that he had so much else to deal with, either. At the very least, there were only two more days until after-school baseball practice, when he could finally forget all his worries and play some ball out in the sun. His soul was already soaring at the thought! Morning runs were refreshing and all, but nothing compared to actually playing a few innings. The text he'd just sent (and his phone too, by extension) entirely forgotten in the wake of the mental pitches he was catching, Yuuri drifted off to sleep far earlier than perhaps he ought to have.

An hour or so later, when Jennifer stepped in with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies for her studious son, she thought she heard him mumbling softly in his sleep, but ignored that in favor of snapping a photo of the adorable scene he made.

—-Thursday, Late Evening—-

There was only the sound of the water sloshing back in forth in the bucket as Yuuri dragged it across the floor in the café for a long moment. The brothers were all holed away in the back still, apparently dealing with the more business-y aspects of a day's sales. While certainly sensible enough, this fact also unfortunately left the newest recruit alone with the task of mopping the floor.

Maybe I put in a little too much soap, Yuuri thought as he stared into the bucket. It certainly was sudsing up an awful lot. Conrad had given him a crash-course instruction on mopping a floor of this size, but perhaps the man had too much faith in him. Well, hey, at least I'll know for sure that it gets clean that way.

Just when Yuuri had gotten the bucket and mop successfully into the corner he'd designated as his starting point, he heard the back door opening again. He looked up in alarm, slightly worried that his incompetence was somehow immediately apparent, and was relieved to see it was only Wolfram, walking across to the cash register with an over-sized manila folder in his hands. It only figured that Wolfram got the comfortable job, while he was stuck with this big bucket and clumsy mop. Actually, maybe counting Japanese bills is weird for him, he mused, his gaze lingering perhaps a bit too long on his co-worker, who looked up from his task of flipping through the colored slips of paper to glare at him. It was only then that Yuuri realized he'd been leaning against the mop handle and staring, while said mop was resting at the bottom of the soapy water. Feeling sufficiently chastised, and with a sudden sense of urgency, Yuuri lifted the mop up and out of the bucket and rested it down on the floor again. By doing so, he sent a minor shower of water and soap droplets flying to the surrounding tiles. A river also appeared to be forming around the mop, which was over-saturated with sudsy water.

"I didn't mean anything by that, just so you know," Wolfram said out of nowhere while Yuuri panicked silently. Distracted from the soapy disaster unfolding at his feet, Yuuri blinked up at the other boy. He looked totally nonchalant for a few seconds, as if he hadn't spoken at all and was merely absorbed in counting the drawer. But then he tilted his head up, blinking right back at Yuuri, before clarifying, "The other night, I mean."

Yuuri was still terribly confused for a moment before the memories filtered back in. In total honesty, he had actually written off the odd exchange of text messages as a dream, what with its close proximity to actual sleep and all, despite the clue of the addition of Wolfram's number to his contacts. "Oh," was all he said at first, his mouth hanging open before he remembered the mop in his hand. Trying to divide his attention between the two things demanding it, he pushed the mop around in a frantic circular motion, hoping to do something about the severe water overload. In the mean time, he couldn't properly consider the enigma Wolfram had presented him with. Better to make a fool of himself and just ask, like always. "But, what didn't you mean?"

"It's not like I did anything you needed to thank me for," Wolfram answered evenly. Yuuri quietly thanked the Buddha, or the heavens, or whatever was above, that he didn't happen to glance across the café at him while they were talking. By now, the mop's circular force had created a sort of whirlpool of soap bubbles and sanitized water at his feet. Seeing that it was only making the problem worse, Yuuri switched strategies and pushed outwards with bold strokes to disperse the water. "I just felt like you've been giving me… a push in the right direction," he laughed quietly, both out of amusement and mild panic.

Wolfram hummed quietly, and Yuuri felt relieved to hear the quiet sound of paper rustling as he continued flipping through bills. He was sure that the sloshing noises were conspicuous enough that his mistake would be found out any moment, and yet Wolfram hardly seemed to notice as he replied, "I suppose you're right, actually. You do owe me."

Had he not been so preoccupied, Yuuri might have been righteously outraged that his gratitude was worth so little, considering that the other boy had not even thought he'd done anything of worth a second ago. As things were, however, he was busily flopping the mop around, hoping the soap situation would right itself on its own. The bubbles looked to be rising. By the time he properly remembered the conversation, all he could think to say was, "What?"

"I'm sure I can think of something," Wolfram said, sounding oddly proud. A minute or so passed while he counted intently, and at some point Yuuri forgot to look at what he was doing with the mop, ending up watching his co-worker instead. After he'd noticed that he was quietly mouthing the numbers to keep track as he counted, Yuuri had simply forgotten that looking away was an option. "Actually," Wolfram started hesitantly, looking up and catching Yuuri off-guard. What at first had only been pretending to be deeply focusing on his mopping quickly became sincere as he saw the new pool forming around where he'd left the mop idle. "If you're free this Saturday…"

Before he could stop it, the image of something he'd seen on television the other day while looking over his mother's shoulder popped into Yuuri's mind. It must have been one of those romantic comedies she was always watching (when it wasn't a fantasy epic, of course). A young woman, her eyes averted shyly, tugged on her braided pigtail as she asked nervously, "Are you free this evening?" while violin music blossomed in the background. Of course, she was asking an impressive, commanding business man (or perhaps a rugged, buff guy; it was generally one of the two, and they always secretly had a heart of gold). This sort of thing didn't happen in real life, to a totally average baseball loving high schooler, who had been completely unpopular his entire life. And Wolfram was a boy, anyways, not the timid heroine of a television drama. No, no, brain, stop! the part of his mind Yuuri dubbed as still sane cried out desperately, while the other part helpfully supplied the image of Wolfram replacing said heroine.

What neither side of his brain had thought to consider was what his body was doing at the time, or rather the state of the floor. At some point in his reverie, he had leaned heavily against the mop, which was already resting in a pool of sudsy water. Gravity, or some other equivalently evil force of nature, followed its course, and the mop slid in towards him, sending poor Yuuri falling face first to the soapy, soaking wet tiles of the floor.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram called out in what sounded like surprise and alarm, hearing the sounds of the fall (and okay, maybe Yuuri had made just the quietest of indignant squeaks as he hit the ground). He was crouching in front of the fallen boy before long, a blonde brow furrowed in confusion. "What happened?"

For his part, Yuuri had managed to catch himself on his elbows at the very least, rather than coming crashing down on his nose. In doing so, his unfortunate elbows also slipped on the wet tile, and his forehead wound up colliding with the floor, albeit with much less force than the initial impact would have had. Regardless, Yuuri groaned. "Nothing, nothing," he managed to reply, pushing himself back up against the slippery surface as best he could. "I guess I just wasn't paying enough attention."

"You…" Wolfram trailed off, his face looking undecided as to its reaction for a few seconds, as it flickered between thought and amusement, before settling on anger, the unexpected dark horse in the race. "You wimp! How do you even manage to fall on your face just because you weren't paying attention? And whose idea was it to put you in charge of mopping?"

Yuuri wrinkled his nose up, now planted firmly on his backside on the floor, feeling mildly betrayed. He had thought Wolfram was actually concerned for him for a second there. "What, do I seem like I can't handle mopping? It seems to me like you would be the one who hasn't had to do a single chore your whole life."

"Actually," Wolfram said around a smirk, "I'm more than capable at such basic activities. It's only practical."

_Yes, well, I'm happy for you._ Yuuri fixed a look of ire on his co-worker, his arms crossed. It didn't particularly help his case that his shirt sleeves were wet and had soap bubbles clinging to them. "Well," was all he could think of to say.

Much to his surprise, Wolfram actually chuckled. No, more than just chuckled, he laughed, unabashedly and honestly. Yuuri forgot to be offended in his amazement. A really cheesy thought about an angel's laughter flickered through his mind, but he pushed it aside with the reminder that Wolfram's usual laugh was actually rather on the obnoxious side. And, he did have to admit that he made a pretty silly sight, tangled up with the mop on the floor, where soapy water was still flowing rather freely. He couldn't help but chuckle, too, after blowing away a stray soap bubble rising up out of the mess. As they laughed together, Yuuri felt as if, despite how impossible getting along had seemed before, working with Wolfram wouldn't be so bad after all.

From where he'd been standing unnoticed by the back door ever since hearing Wolfram's yell, Conrad smiled. He'd need to step in to fix the situation before the café was inundated by a soapy lake, but for now he was happy to stand back and let the two teenagers have their moment.

—-Friday, Afternoon Time—-

The door closed behind Wolfram's retreating back, leaving only Yuuri and Conrad in the main area of the cafe. The last of the after-school crowd had just skipped out, satisfied and with a dainty cupcake in hand. As relieved as Yuuri was to have made it through the rush without making any notable missteps, he felt like sighing. It seemed like every time he thought things were going better with Wolfram, he would turn around and snap at him with some random insult (or the "wimp" one he was growing accustomed to) tacked on. For example, just now, when he had smiled and waved away the last customer, a nice young lady with perky curls, Wolfram had loudly declared that he was being unprofessional before storming off for his break. As far as Yuuri knew, there was nothing unprofessional about smiling at a customer! Conrad, as usual, hadn't seemed bothered or even surprised by his brother's behavior.

Normally, Yuuri would simply wonder in silence at Conrad's saint-like disposition. This time, however, he allowed himself the frustrated sigh longing to be voiced. "What exactly is his problem with me? I either don't know how to do my job, or I'm unprofessional! He's even worse than my older brother."

Conrad chuckled softly. If it hadn't been a relief, Yuuri would have whined that he found his misery amusing. "Like I said before, he's been going through a period of many transitions in his life. It's been hard for him," he paused, seeming to stop and consider whether or not to go on. "Especially since, in the first place, he isn't the type to let people into his heart easily."

His eyes upturned in deep contemplation of this statement, Yuuri frowned. "Transitions? You mean like, moving to Japan and all?" he asked.

For some reason, Yuuri could only interpret the look of hesitation on Conrad's face to mean that he had a lot he wanted to say, but wasn't sure whether or not he should say any of it. It was incredibly frustrating. "Yes, there's that," he answered after a pause, and for a few seconds Yuuri was afraid that was all he was going to say. Much to his relief, however, Conrad continued, "Try to keep in mind that he hasn't had the traditional Japanese upbringing you've been exposed to, also."

_Traditional may not be quite the right word_, Yuuri thought to himself, recalling his childhood spent with his enthused mother dropping frilly dresses over his head insistently. "But…" Confused and just a little dejected, Yuuri couldn't quite place what Conrad was trying to tell him. "What does that have to do with… his heart and all?"

It was weird to see Conrad frown. So much so that Yuuri felt deeply relieved when his question made him smile again. "I don't think you need to worry about that too much," he said, "seeing as everyone here already likes you quite a lot."

Now that completely upturned Yuuri's expectations. "Heeh!?" he practically shouted, the syllable dragged out in his earnest confusion. "Everyone? No way. That would even include Grumpy Ponytail back there."

Yuuri, naturally, didn't even think to ask himself if his title for the eldest brother would offend Conrad. Conrad just laughed, covering his mouth politely with the palm of his hand. Before he could answer, the bell over the door chimed to announce the entrance of some customers. As disappointed as he was to not hear the rest of whatever Conrad may have divulged, Yuuri was glad for the chance to practice for the perfect balance between "friendly" and "unprofessional" that, according to Wolfram, he was so bad at discerning.

"Welcome!" he called out as the two girls approached the counter. Their uniforms suggested that they went to the private academy a little ways away. Yuuri hadn't even seen the girls' uniforms for half of the area's schools before he started working—but he supposed that's what he deserved for only hanging out with his baseball buddies and Murata, more or less. It only figured that he'd never meet any girls. "How can I help you?" he finished with a smile that he hoped was warm and charming, his eyes closing as his cheeks rose up.

One of the girls giggled, and he almost thought for a second that he'd succeeded. But surely enough, when Yuuri looked again, he saw that her shy gaze was flickering toward Conrad and not him. _Figures_, Yuuri thought with a sigh. _Not like I can blame her._

"Um…" the girl with cropped, dark hair posed a finger over her lips, examining the display, while the other one barely bothered looking. "We'll have two strawberry shortcakes, please."

Her friend beside her nodded in approval. A big smile plastered on his face, Yuuri got out the tongs to remove the pastries from the display. His eyes roved over a few of the treats before finding the row of strawberry shortcakes. To his dismay, there were only three cakes left on the tray, but he dutifully removed two of them for the customers before plopping them down carefully into the plain box for small orders. "Alright, that'll be…" he trailed off, hoping the price would pop into his head. A moment of silence passed as he thought deeply.

"Four hundred fifty yen, please," Conrad supplied from over by the register, grinning.

Yuuri watched the girls leave after they'd handed over the bills and received their change, only giving a little wave. He couldn't help but wonder if Wolfram had a point, and if there really was some sort of terrible flaw to his customer service technique.

Yuuri had gotten into contemplating practicing a perfect smile in the mirror alone at night when Conrad cleared his throat from beside him, gesturing towards the tray of shortcakes. "We'll be in trouble if some other customers come in looking for these," he said, a suspiciously mischievous-looking twinkle in his eyes.

"I guess you're right," Yuuri murmured thoughtfully, one hand rubbing his cheek. He was still mainly concerned with whatever was wrong with his smile.

If Yuuri hadn't known any better, he would have thought it was with total innocence that Conrad then asked, "Why don't you go ask Gwendal if he's made any more?"

Yuuri immediately froze up, his face looking positively terror-stricken. All that he could remember of interacting with Gwendal was the imposing man's positively stony glare. And that hadn't even been when he'd been doing anything to bother him! "Ehh," he cried in dismay, although he didn't have a single good reason to refuse. Maybe he could claim an allergy to pastry ovens.

"I'll take care of the counter," Conrad smiled serenely, almost as if he was unaware of Yuuri's distress. "Don't worry about it."

_Will you take care of my medical bills, too?_ Yuuri's mind chimed in, but ultimately he gulped and nodded, "A- alright."

The same dramatic music that always seemed to play in foreign films when the character was about to walk into a dangerous trap playing in his head, Yuuri opened the door to the back as if in slow motion. He stepped in one foot at a time, as reluctant as if he were heading to his own trial. Had it been the blockbuster film his mind was making the scene out to be, the camera would have panned dramatically into the back corridor from over his shoulder, to capture his collision with the danger waiting beyond—

"Wolfram!?" he called out in surprise as his shoulder bumped into another. There was no mistaking whose it was, of course, but in the dim light Yuuri somehow thought that Wolfram's skin looked oddly flushed under his blonde locks.

"Yuuri!"

Wolfram sounded just as surprised as he was. Maybe it was just Yuuri's imagination, but he also seemed a little out of breath.

"Sorry, I wasn't… looking where I was going?" Actually, he had been, but there hadn't been enough time to do anything but let the collision happen after the door closed. Yuuri felt that he needed to apologize, regardless.

"Don't sound so uncertain about it, wimp," Wolfram snapped, but it only sounded halfhearted rather than actually insulting. "Be more careful next time."

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even form a syllable, Wolfram had already pushed by him and was stepping out from the enclosed space. The door closed shut with a soft click not long after. A bit bewildered, Yuuri turned his head to blink at the door. As could be expected, it provided no answers. After a moment of silence, he was forced to give up, shrug, and turn back to face the other door before him: the one leading back to the kitchen. He winced as he reached out and took hold of the handles of the double-door, trying to imagine just what Gwendal did back there all day. Probably just baking, making sure everything came out on time, dealing with the business paperwork, and plotting the death of any incompetent employees, Yuuri figured. Determined not to scare himself out of completing his assigned task, he pushed the doors open regardless.

He was expecting to see Gwendal's head turn sharply, a glare fixed on his intruding presence, but found the kitchen to be empty, to all appearances. Stepping further inside, Yuuri found that the baker really wasn't in his own workplace. He blinked.

"Hello…?" he tried, calling out in a quiet little whisper. He was more afraid of getting an answer than he was of not finding Gwendal.

_Am I just that scared, or is there a chill in here?_ Yuuri thought, his hands rising to grasp at his elbows as he shivered slightly. His eyes soon found the source of the cold wind, too—the door to the alley out back was open. An elaborate scenario of a murder and get-away jumped into Yuuri's mind immediately. Oh, the innocent baker, slain while perfecting the designs in icing on his cakes! It would be the talk of the town. _Stop it, brain_, the more sane side of his mind retorted. _I'd at least better check it out before coming to any conclusions._

Teeth chattering animatedly, Yuuri made his way over to the back door. Very little could have properly prepared him for what he witnessed in that alley, short of a time-traveling version of himself from the future grabbing him by the shoulder and describing the scene to him. There was Gwendal, his tall form bent as he stroked the fur of a kitten, who was busily munching away on some food laid out at the baker's feet. The truly astounding thing, however, was the look of complete rapture on Gwendal's face. Despite himself, Yuuri couldn't help but gasp rather loudly in surprise.

Instantly, Gwendal's mouth fell into a stern line, his eyebrows sinking into a glare as his head turned with an almost audible snap to lock his gaze on the intruder. It was much more terrifying than Yuuri had initially imagined, even—if one ignored the kitten, that is. A moment of silence passed while Gwendal glowered at Yuuri, who was struck dumb with surprise and terror.

"Do you have business with me?" Gwendal grumbled after it became apparent that Yuuri was simply going to gawk in astonishment forever if left to his own devices.

The question did manage to snap him out of it, however, as his brain switched gears from 'silent panic' to 'nervous panic.' "Oh, I, well," he gulped. "It's just that these customers both wanted strawberry shortcake, so suddenly we only had one left! And then, Conrad asked me to come back here and ask you if you'd made any more, or maybe it was to ask if you'd start making a new batch. But then something was up with Wolfram, and I thought you got murdered because you weren't in the kitchen, but… you were actually… here."

When the rant had run its full course, Yuuri shut his mouth and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Gwendal looked completely unaffected by any of it. Almost as if he hadn't heard, he turned back to the little cat, who had just finished his meal. He ran his big hand over the small, furry back one last time before rising to his feet again. "I see," he said, turning back to Yuuri, who froze in place as he stepped forward. "I prepared an extra batch, since Wolfram mentioned that we were running low."

When Gwendal passed by him to return to the kitchen, Yuuri finally breathed out. He watched the white puff it created in the chilly air, feeling grateful for the sign that he was still alive and Gwendal's glare had indeed not killed him outright. As much as he wanted to work out the mystery of whether the man was truly terrifying or actually a gentle soul who fed kittens and doted on his youngest brother, Yuuri had the feeling that if he thought about it too hard, Gwendal would know somehow. The only solution he had come up with so far was that the only gene all three siblings had managed to inherit was a tendency for puzzling contradictions.


	4. Cafè Mocha

Disclaimer: Nothing Murata says or does is intended to reflect any actual practices or truths.

**Devil's Food**

Chapter Four: Cafè Mocha

_It's a sea of skirts._

Before finding himself in this situation, Yuuri might have thought that would be positively ideal. Actually being surrounded by skirts, and of course the girls in them, however, proved not quite so exciting as it was overwhelming. He was, after all, only here to search for his friend, who had gone out of his way to invite him to the school festival without so much as telling him his class number. Thus Yuuri had been milling about for the past ten minutes or so among the first year classrooms, despite having rushed all the way here from his own school so as not to have seemed like he was trying to skip out on his promise.

_So much for that_, he sighed to himself. _Way to go, Murata!_

This room had seemed promising, if anything, for the sheer number of people. It was positively packed. It had only been since entering that he'd realized it seemed to be exclusively girls. Not that this revelation would exclude the possibility that Murata was in here. He tended to drift towards wherever skirted beings could be found. As Yuuri peered around helplessly, he failed to notice the crowd shifting all at once, and remained firmly planted directly in their path.

"I- I'm sorry!" he yelped as he was unabashedly jostled by a disgruntled girl in a pristinely ironed blazer. His apology was probably lost under the chatter, as she intently turned back towards the center of the room. Now that he took a closer look, the crowd seemed to actually be an enormous, somewhat disorganized line, which he had unintentionally attempted to force his way into. He belatedly felt the heat of a good number of gazes turning to him. Flushed bright red, he turned on one foot and was about to flee to safety when he heard something suspiciously familiar.

"Yuuri!"

It even sounded like his name, although he couldn't make it out for sure over the din of the crowd. But, there was no way that could actually be...

Before he could escape, or finish his thought, a hand clasped down on his shoulder and turned him around. "Yuuri!" Surely enough, no one else yelled out his first name so much, and with so much irritation. There Wolfram stood. Yuuri's eyes bugged out when he saw the beret perched at an angle over his hair, making it just a bit more wavy than usual, and the little frock draped over what appeared to be the school uniform here. "How many times do I need to call for you? Are you deaf, or are you avoiding me?"

"Wh- what?" he breathed, immensely taken aback by the sudden situation. He felt the stares of nearly everyone else in the room all centered on the two of them. "No, I'm not avoiding you or anything, I just... Wait, but why are you here? Why are you wearing their uniform!?"

Wolfram looked at him with a mixture of confusion and disgust, squinting at him almost as if to evaluate if something was wrong with him. "Why _wouldn't_ I be wearing the uniform? What would you expect me to be wearing?"

_Oh, god_, was all Yuuri could think as the revelation truly sank in. _Wolfram and Murata go to the same school._ His dream of separating the craziness of his life at work from his eccentric friend crumbled before his eyes.

"Are you just going to stand there gaping forever?"

Wolfram's irritated inquiry jolted Yuuri out of his sudden bout of despair. He had already been envisioning the team dynamic Wolfram and Murata would have if they ever ganged up against him. He shivered in horror before his brain caught up with what Wolfram had actually said. "I'm not gaping!" he exclaimed, feeling just a tad defensive. It wasn't like there wasn't anything to gape at, however, with the cute little hat and frock his co-worker was sporting. He'd been distracted by the school uniform, however. Just because of its implications, of course.

"If you say so," Wolfram snorted. "You didn't just come in here to flirt with girls, now did you?"

"How did that turn around so fast!?" Yuuri clenched his eyes shut and shook his head in frustration. "Of course I didn't! I'm just here because... because..."

He suffered under an intense stare from Wolfram for a moment as he fumbled, trying to find a suitable answer. He didn't want to put his own head under the chopping block by mentioning Murata.

"Well, in any case," Wolfram eventually seemed to take pity on him and cut him off, although his slight glare implied that the topic was not forgotten, "I can't be away for any longer. Come on."

Before Yuuri could answer, "And what does that have to do with me!?" as he'd imagined, he found himself being pulled through the crowd by his arm. To his surprise, the crowd parted for them this time. It only figured that the pretty boy got special treatment.

Upon reaching their destination, he realized that this was because said pretty boy had been the center of attention all along. Wolfram released Yuuri's arm only to take a seat behind the easel propped up in the center of the room. He promptly picked up his paint brush and palette, only to look up and find Yuuri still simply standing and staring dumbly. "What are you waiting for? Take a seat," he said, sounding impatient from dealing with all of Yuuri's delays as he gestured with the brush to the seat across from him.

Not one to refuse an offer (although perhaps that only qualified as a demand), Yuuri plopped down into the seat before he was finished processing the situation. He noticed Wolfram peering intensely at him for a good minute before he began marking the paper in front of him with a look of deep concentration. "Wait, what? What are you doing?" Yuuri leaned forward as if to get up and take a look at the paper.

"Don't move around!" Wolfram snapped before he could make heads or tails of anything. "Isn't it obvious? I'm painting your portrait! What did you think I was here for?"

The gears turned furiously in Yuuri's head. He looked around the room one last time before it clicked. "Oh my god! That's what this is! And I just skipped the line!?"

"Honestly," Wolfram sighed as if this was all a great trial for him. He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure no one minds."

Yuuri wasn't so sure after peeking back at the girl at the front of the line. Everyone seemed to be awfully antsy, but nobody was stepping forward about it. Great, he'd just made an entire room's worth of enemies. He'd have to think twice before accepting any more invitations to this school. He apologized profusely in his heart for his unwitting crime. The more he thought about it, the less he understood about the whole situation. Commanded not to move, he found himself twitching under the stares of not only the spectators but also Wolfram, who was busily making strangely dramatic strokes on the paper before him. Well, not that Yuuri knew anything about art. It could be a perfectly normal part of portraiture. _Does the cute little hat really help any, though?_

"Do you usually, um..." he struggled for words, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. "...Do art?"

Wolfram rolled his eyes without stopping his brush. That worried Yuuri a little. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I'm the representative for the art club!"

"Wow," Yuuri nodded, sincerely impressed. "Already? Didn't you just get here?"

There was undeniably a note of pride in the snort Wolfram answered with. He really shouldn't have considered that an answer, but even just a week or so of knowing Wolfram had changed that.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, only a few moments of painting passed undisturbed before a voice calling out, "Shibuya! Shibuya!" became audible over the crowd. Yuuri turned to see a suitably toussled Murata emerging from the throng, who looked significantly more disgruntled this time to have an uninvited interloper cutting ahead.

"Murata!" Yuuri called, smiling before he could help it. He had, after all, been searching for his friend this whole time. Not that getting his portrait done really qualified as searching, but he hadn't been given a proper choice in that matter, the way he saw it.

"Shibuya," Murata breathed as he eyed the situation from behind his spectacles. Yuuri never quite knew what to think when he did that. It usually meant he was calculating something... which rarely fared well for him. "I've been looking all over for you."

Yuuri had just enough time to say, "Then that makes two of us," before the person in front of him cleared his throat. It was only when he looked back to see Wolfram's disgruntled expression that he realized he'd been caught exactly where he hadn't wanted to be. He'd managed to unwittingly arrange the meeting of his friend and his co-worker. There was no hope. His job would be uncovered, and he would be teased for time immemorial.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Yuuri?" Wolfram asked, a single eyebrow raised in indignation. Yuuri couldn't help but wonder if it was a grave offense in Europe not to immediately introduce someone every time they walked into a room. It sure seemed to bother Wolfram an awful lot.

"Um," he started eloquently before reluctantly gesturing to Murata, who moved forward a bit to separate himself from the line. "This is Murata Ken, my friend from middle school. Murata, this is..."

"Oh, I know," Murata stopped him with a suspiciously wide smile before he could (politely, he presumed) introduce Wolfram. "I don't think there's a single person on this campus who doesn't know about the new transfer student. My question is, how have you and the school celebrity already gotten on first name basis?"

Yuuri froze completely under Murata's stare, suggestively raised eyebrow and all. As he had thought, Murata's calculating look never meant anything good for him. "Uh..."

With Yuuri remaining silent, Wolfram must have grown irritated as he exclaimed, "What, are you ashamed of our-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Yuuri shouted before he could finish, waving his arms wildly. "We just work together!"

It only occurred to him after he had spoken that Wolfram was only going to say "cafè," and he had possibly made the matter worse by leaving it ambiguous.

"I see," Murata continued to smile as he adjusted his glasses.

Yuuri groaned. That never meant anything good. At least he had somehow gotten through the question without revealing his exact workplace. He'd have to take his victories where he could, with both of these two around.

"In any case," Wolfram grumbled, pouting just slightly as he set down his brush, "I finished your portrait."

"Oh!" Yuuri perked up, excited not only to see Wolfram's artwork but to move around freely again. "Let me see!"

"Well, of course," Wolfram scoffed, but failed to hide the slight glow of pride at the interest in his work. "What would be the point of painting your portrait without showing you?"

He may have had a point this time, but Yuuri opted to ignore Wolfram's words as he took the paper the artist carefully removed from the easel. He stared. He could do nothing but stare for a good minute or so. No words came to him. Not much thought at all came to him, as a matter of fact. The page was completely covered from corner to corner with bright colors and daring shapes, with the exception of some black spots. _Oh, I think I found my hair! ...Wait, this is supposed to be me!?_

"Well?" Wolfram crossed his arms, a proud little smile on his face.

Yuuri looked between the painter and the portrait (was that even the right word for this?) in confused dismay. He didn't want to disappoint the hopeful look Wolfram was giving him, despite the somehow bratty way he expressed it, as if _of course_ his work deserved praise. "Ehe," Yuuri chuckled awkwardly. "It's... nice!"

Wolfram frowned, brows slanted in suspicion. He seemed about ready to explode into a complaint when Murata, who had been peering over Yuuri's shoulder at the artwork, chimed in, "You really captured your subject," with a wide smile.

It was Yuuri's turn to feel indignant. But, Wolfram looked immensely pleased, so he decided to let it slide. "Of course," Wolfram nodded with satisfaction.

"Well, then," Yuuri yawned and stretched his arms out wide, despite only having remained still for a handful of minutes, "I should get out of your way. It seems busy in here."

"And you haven't seen my class' booth yet!" Murata piped in.

"Fine," Wolfram snapped. "If you're so eager to leave, go ahead!"

Yuuri cringed at that, but got up nonetheless. "R... Right. Good luck with your painting!"

"Bye-bye, Your Excellency!" Murata called out with a wave as he led Yuuri out of the room.

Over the chatter of the crowd, Yuuri could distinctly hear Wolfram's enraged shout of, "If I ever hear you call me that again...!"

Yuuri looked to his friend with an expression wavering between surprise and sympathy. "What was that?"

"He's gained that nickname around here," Murata chuckled. "I'm sure you can imagine why."

Yuuri had to laugh. He could certainly imagine Wolfram as a prince of some sort, haughtily ordering everyone around and wearing a big silly crown. His eyes fell to the portrait, which he had still unfolded in his hand. He looked to Murata with a conspiratory gaze and whispered, "But really... how did he get to be the representative of the art club when he paints like... _this_? Was it his looks, after all?" in a low tone, as if Wolfram could be behind him just listening in and waiting for a chance to be further offended.

"Who knows?" Murata shook his head, his shoulders still shaking from suppressed laughter. "His looks, huh? So he's got you already?"

"What!" Yuuri exploded, so taken aback he almost fell over. "Nothing like that! I was just stating a fact!"

"Beauty is always subjective," Murata said completely evenly, as if he were sharing a precious pearl of wisdom.

"Whatever," Yuuri frowned, shooting an irritated look at his friend. He had anticipated teasing about serving pastries part-time, but not about this! Not when there wasn't even anything to be teased about! He felt the weight of Murata's hand on his shoulder. The patronizing look of sympathy there only made his frown deepen.

"And here we are!" Murata announced before Yuuri had realized they'd even gone very far down the hallway. "The main event!"

What he found inside hardly qualified as the main event to Yuuri. A few boys and girls sat scattered around the room, looking unimaginably bored. A few of them were lethargically playing a card game in the back, even. In the center of the room stood a makeshift tent attached to the ceiling, which was decorated with a hodgepodge assortment of ornaments and lights, some of which appeared to have been taken directly out of Christmas storage. A sign hanging near the flap of the tent declared in an attempt at fancy script: _Come and marvel at the mysterious powers of times past!_

Yuuri blinked in confusion as a few of the students raised their heads to survey the new-comers.

"Oh, you're back," one of the girls near the front broke the silence. "I almost thought we had a customer."

"Ah, but I brought a customer!" Murata cheerfully indicated Yuuri, who looked around in further confusion at being put on the spot in such a way. There was a general cry of both delight and reluctant disbelief.

Yuuri laughed, just a tad uncomfortable. He certainly couldn't back out, despite not having even the faintest clue what he had been signed up for. "Um... Sure!"

"Great!" Murata slapped him on the back heartily, unable to contain his wide smile of mirth, before striding to the center of the room. He kneeled down, shuffling through a small pile of things before standing back up with what looked to Yuuri like a really wrinkly towel. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as Murata dashed into the tent, calling over his shoulder, "Just a moment!"

All Yuuri could do was to peer around at the other students, who didn't seem to be reacting at all. He took a few hesitant steps towards the tent. "Murata...?"

"You may enter," he heard his friend's voice declare after a good minute of awkward silence. He sounded suitably dramatic and grave.

An eyebrow raised, Yuuri lifted the flap of the tent and poked his head inside. It was dark within, the only exception being a small orb which was giving off light. In the faint illumination he could see his friend seated at a table, his hands folded primly. What Yuuri now recognized as a make-shift turban, costume gem affixed to the front and all, was firmly secured over his toussled hair. Yuuri couldn't help but snort at the sight as he stepped fully into the tent.

Ignoring the audience participation, or lack thereof, Murata exclaimed, "Welcome, traveler, to this mysterious realm where the bindings of everyday life are forgotten, and anything becomes possible! Yes... even foreseeing the future!"

Yuuri suddenly understood the emptiness of the room outside. _Isn't 'foreseeing the future' redundant, in the first place?_

"A fortune-telling booth?" He let out an exasperated sigh.

Murata nodded, finally giving up his act and smiling. "I'm afraid it came up somehow that I knew how to do tarot readings when we were debating what to do for our booth... I couldn't really get out of it."

"They couldn't just do the stereotypical cafe or haunted house set-up?"

"That would have required effort on everyone's part," Murata explained with a strained smile.

_You seemed pretty into it a second ago_, Yuuri couldn't help but think. "I didn't know you were into this kind of stuff," he mused as he finally gave up and took his seat on the rickety stool positioned across the table from Murata.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Murata laughed, wiggling his eyebrows. Yuuri just rolled his eyes, but it was probably true. "I don't really do it that often. It's not good to rely on methods like this... but they certainly have worth. Particularly for someone like you, Shibuya."

Looking at Murata's pleased smile, Yuuri didn't know if he should feel gravely offended about that or not. "I mean, sure, thinking about the future isn't my _favorite_ thing..." he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tarot isn't only about the future. As a matter of fact..." Murata trailed off only to focus on the deck of cards Yuuri had failed to notice he'd been dutifully shuffling as they spoke, removing three of them and placing them face down in a line in front of him. He indicated the first in the row. "This card will tell us about your past."

Yuuri couldn't help but swallow uncertiainly during the pause as Murata revealed the card, undoubtedly extended for increased dramatic effect. He flipped it over to reveal a drawing of a man suspended upside down on a gallows. Yuuri frowned, not liking it one bit, although he almost wanted to laugh at the funny crook of the poor guy's leg. "At least he has the good humor to strike a pose in that situation," he mused.

"The Hanged Man," Murata explained, although the words were written on the card as well. The only indication that he had heard Yuuri's interruption was the faint curve to his lips. "He represents passivity, inactivity... a halt in progress."

The grumpy look remained planted firmly on Yuuri's face. "Are you trying to say something about me?"

"The cards," Murata chuckled. "The cards are trying to say something about you. About the past you, in any case... It's not necessarily a bad thing. We can't afford to press blindly forward all the time, Shibuya."

"A little bit of laziness is perfectly normal going into your teenage years," Yuuri grumbled an uncalled for defense, as if practiced. Not that he'd gained a sore spot from constant beratement at the (proverbial) hands of his brother. Certainly not.

"No one is saying otherwise," Murata acknowledged with a knowing (and only slightly amused) glance. "Now, shall we see about your present?"

Yuuri scoffed. "I guess."

Smiling, Murata turned the middle card to reveal an illustration of a fat baby riding a horse under an enormously massive sun.

"It definitely isn't safe to put a baby on a horse like that," was all Yuuri had to say about the revelation.

Again opting to ignore Yuuri's interpretations of the age-old cards, Murata continued the reading. "The Sun card represents joy and optimism, a new start that brings hope for the future. Hmm, anything new in your life recently, Shibuya?"

Yuuri frowned at the suspiciously bright smile his friend flashed him. "I... I guess..." He seemed to be saying that a lot. He scratched his elbow uncertainly. He had to admit that was a little eerie coming just a week or so after he'd started his first job, but he wasn't willing to subscribe to these slips of paper or anything.

"It could be anything," Murata mused. "An opportunity... a person..."

Now he understood the suspicious vibe he'd gotten from that smile. _Certainly not!_ He shook his head, but refused to take the bate for once. To be fair, he _had_ met one legitimately kind and somewhat sane person lately, but somehow Conrad hadn't been the first one to pop into his mind. It meant his job, anyways! Clearly! If it meant anything at all. It was still just a card.

"Well, I think you have the idea," Murata chuckled, seeing Yuuri's troubled face.

"Let's just move on," Yuuri huffed.

"Interested all of a sudden, are you, Shibuya?" Murata raised his eyebrows as he flipped the final card. "And, as for your future..."

This time the picture was of a lady reclining on a big red couch, lifting up a sceptre dramatically despite her impassive expression. Yuuri just blinked down at the card.

"No comment this time?" Murata wondered.

Yuuri shot him a baleful glance.

"Anyways," the divinator continued with a victorious smile, "the Empress represents fertility and pleasure. She usually has to do with successful romantic desire..."

Under Murata's unabashed gaze of suggestive glee, Yuuri could only glower. "As if..." He didn't even have a crush on anyone!

"You know," Murata started, and he immediately knew it was going to be bad, "both this and the Sun card can mean... the gift of a new life into the world..."

Yuuri didn't even bother being surprised. He just groaned. "That's not even funny. No girlfriend in my whole fifteen years, and then you want to tell me my love life progresses _that_ quickly!?"

Chuckling, Murata shook his head as he shuffled the cards back into the deck. "It doesn't necessarily indicate the immediate future. I imagine you'll see what it means in time."

Yuuri rolled his eyes. "I mean, not that I'd complain if I suddenly stumble into a beautiful girlfriend, but..."

"It never hurts to start thinking about how to be a good parent, Shibuya," Murata sang, tapping the deck against the table to straighten it out. Yuuri only sighed. "In any case, I'm only an amateur, and each card has a plethora of meanings... You don't really need to worry about it. Just enjoy the spring time of your youth!"

Yuuri remained highly skeptical.

"Fine, you don't need to believe it at all," Murata answered his silence. "After all, it only cost you 200 yen..."

"What!" Yuuri jumped up out of his seat. "I'm paying for this!?"

"Well, of course." Murata had the gall to look just a bit indignant. "What did you think I meant by 'customer'? Accruing funds is the point of a school festival, after all... We're experiencing a sad drought, and so the price has doubled in recent times. We can't all be as popular as His Excellency's class, you see."

It took Yuuri a second of grumbling to himself about how he'd been swindled for the realization to sink in. He waved the bizarre portrait he'd been carrying around all this time wildly. "I was supposed to pay for this!?"

"Oh, you didn't?" Murata's smile gave him a knowing vibe he didn't quite like. "That's strange. I seem to recall it was 500 yen for a five-minute portrait..."

_They're making a killing! For these ugly things!_ Yuuri managed to think while still freaking out. His shoulders slumped. "I... I didn't just skip the line, I even stole my portrait..."

This news made the episode even less sensible to his already confused brain. And yet, the unique portrait found its way into the top drawer of his desk at home.

-Sunday Morning-

Yuuri's legs felt a little creaky still as he jogged down the side street where Devil's Food stood, looking as out of place as ever. He'd decided to skip his morning run in order to make it in earlier for his shift than he technically had to. He felt just the tiniest bit guilty about taking the day off all of a sudden yesterday. And no, he no longer felt guilty even the slightest about making off with a free "portrait" from Wolfram, not after the rest of the school festival! Honestly, just because he'd been roped into advertising for the fortune telling booth by Murata, and had tried out advertising it to the girls in line, didn't give Wolfram any right to yell at him like that... It wasn't like his dedicated admirers were going to abandon their places in line to get their fortune told by Murata in a turban. And he had most certainly _not_ been flirting. Not that that should have anything to do with Wolfram! He must have gotten possessive over his fans already. Beautiful people must not understand the struggles of the rest of the world... But bickering with Wolfram had been the last of his troubles. No, Murata had wiggled his way into coming back home to the Shibuya residence for dinner. And that meant nothing other than the completely killer team-up getting together again... His mother and her dear Muraken had wreaked havoc like none other.

And so, Yuuri was positively exhausted even after his usually invigorating morning run. Nevertheless, he flung the now familiar doors to the cafè open with a smile, despite the "Closed" sign still hanging in the window. "Good morning!"

Conrad, the one currently in the main room, looked up from where he was stationed over the register, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Good morning, Yuuri. You're early."

Yuuri nodded, just a little proud of himself. "Yeah! I thought I'd try to make up for missing yesterday."

Looking a little sheepish, Conrad smiled. "Ah, yes. I'll admit it was quite hectic with just Gwendal and I..."

As he trailed off, Yuuri's mouth hung open. It took his tired brain just a few seconds to catch up with the conversation. Wolfram had been at the school festival, too... "Oh my god! We both took the day off!" No wonder Conrad had hesitated to give it to him. "I'm so sorry!"

"There's nothing to apologize for," Conrad smiled, as usual.

That wasn't particularly comforting to the frenzied new hire. "How on Earth did that even work? You were the only employee out on the floor?"

"Actually," Conrad chuckled softly, "I wasn't."

Yuuri gaped. "It can't be...!"

"Yes, Gwen helped out during the rushes in between batches."

Yuuri's mouth open and closed a few times before he broke out into laughter. He could just imagine Gwendal's fearsome face as he carefully packaged a perfectly decorated little cake and handed it to some trembling customer who was probably half his size. He and the constantly smiling Conrad must have made quite a sight behind the counter together. "I think I'm all the more sorry, though."

"In that case," Conrad grinned at him, "You should just put extra effort into the promise you made in exchange."

It wasn't that promises weren't important to him, but it took Yuuri a moment to remember deal he'd made with Conrad. "Oh," he breathed.

Conrad raised an eyebrow. "Are things not going well?"

"Well," Yuuri hummed. "It's more like... it's hard to tell with him."

And that was the truth. Despite Conrad's advice, he still couldn't read Wolfram most of the time. Maybe he should have asked Murata to use his cards to help him with _that_. ...Fortune-telling worked that way, didn't it?

Before Conrad could respond, the door to the back opened. It was so subdued that Yuuri was afraid it was Gwendal, but he distinctly heard, "Big bro-..." before the door closed and he met eyes with Wolfram. Much to his surprise, his co-worker actually visibly brightened upon seeing him. "Yuuri! You're early!"

_Is it that much of a surprise to everyone that I'm a little early?_ "Yeah!" he cheered, feeling a little embarrassed for a reason he couldn't name.

"Perfect," Wolfram smiled, indeed looking pleased. Yuuri was completely mystified. "I've been thinking about it, and where did you hang the portrait?"

Yuuri froze. He looked to Conrad. Conrad only smiled his usual smile, although perhaps with somewhat more mirth than normal. He looked to his feet. They provided no answers, although perhaps he could have made a run for it. But that would have ruined the entire point of coming in early. He finally looked back to Wolfram, who still seemed to be eagerly awaiting his answer. _No one must have had the heart to tell him he's an awful artist..._

"Um," Yuuri began, his gaze shifting down and to the side. "Well, you see, I put it in my drawer at home..."

As expected, Wolfram did not look happy. But he hadn't had the heart to lie to that face, either. His first sign of danger was Wolfram's crossed arms. "What!" he shouted, leaving no hint of a question in the word. "I went out of my way and put so much thought into capturing your likeness, and you just shut it up in a drawer! Art needs to be out in the open to truly be alive!"

_My likeness!?_ Yuuri reeled back. _What must he think of me?_ Putting aside his horror, which he could deal with later, he returned to the matter at hand. He didn't need any more than the first sign of danger-this was clearly a Perilous Situation. Fortunately, over the past week he felt he'd gained a few tools in dealing with such circumstances. "No, no, I appreciate it, really!" Although the slight cringe on his face as he raised his hands in surrender probably didn't help his case. "I just... I just didn't want to stick a pin through it, you know? And I didn't really have any other way to hang it up!"

A heart-pounding moment passed as Wolfram considered his excuse. It seemed somewhat brittle even to Yuuri himself, but for some reason it did seem to pacify the enraged artist. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully. "For a wimp, you actually have a surprisingly good appreciation for art," he mused with a hint of approval.

"Ehe," Yuuri laughed awkwardly, completely abashed and indeed ashamed for being praised for his excuse for his own carelessness. Now, he had absolutely no chance to let Wolfram know his art could use improvement. If he found out that he had put it in the drawer because it would have been downright eerie having it up on his wall, Yuuri wouldn't stand a chance. He'd never be able to enter the cafè again.

"Alright," Wolfram exclaimed, breaking him out of his fearsome reverie. "In that case, I'll just have to paint you a proper portrait some time. Only because you liked that one so much, of course!"

"Wh- what...!" Yuuri gasped before he could stop himself. Wolfram had his eyes closed and his chin turned upwards, his arms still crossed. There was just a slight dusting of pink across his cheeks. He must have felt really happy about his artwork being appreciated. Yuuri felt immensely guilty all of a sudden. As he hesitated, Wolfram cracked one eye open to evaluate the cause of the silence. "W, wow!" He immediately piped up. "You don't have to... really!"

Wolfram snorted. "Just accept my kindness with gratitude!"

Yuuri was completely defeated. "Right... Thanks."

Maybe Wolfram was the forgetful type, and they could all just completely move on from this whole portraiture affair. Even Yuuri could see how unlikely that was, however.

Just as Conrad, who had remained pointedly silent throughout their exchange (or so it seemed to Yuuri), cleared his throat, the bell chimed indicating the door opening. Yuuri immediately turned and backed out of the way. He had forgotten to actually move into the store with all of the commotion since he'd come in, despite the great effort he'd made to arrive early. No one else seemed quite so anxious over the sudden entrance into the cafè. Perhaps the brothers were expecting someone, but once Yuuri saw the early customers he couldn't imagine they were usual visitors who could stroll right in before opening.

The first to enter was a man with wavy blonde hair that was really astonishingly similar to Wolfram's. As a matter of fact, Yuuri couldn't help but wonder for a second if this stranger was his father. He was a truly impressive sight, although Yuuri soon realized that this guy actually wasn't much taller than he was. He couldn't actually see much of his face due to the rather over-sized pair of sunglasses he was sporting. Beside those, he was wearing entirely white. Combined with his hair, it made him just a bit too dazzling in the morning sun pouring in through the open door, which he was graciously holding for the lady entering after him. She was rather lanky and had some of the longest, straightest black hair he'd ever seen. Unfortunately, she also had a similar pair of dark sunglasses covering her eyes. Yuuri imagined she'd be quite pretty. She was wearing a black Winter coat-as a matter of fact, everything on her was black other than the long, white scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Yuuri frowned at that. He imagined they were one of those couples who went around together dressed to match. On top of that, they looked like mega-celebrities in disguise from the paparazzi, despite being in a local cafè on a side-street before opening. He suspected there weren't any cameramen looming on the corner of his block, just waiting to spot them.

"Um," he started with much less refined manners than he'd imagined, "We actually haven't opened yet, so if you would just kindly wait..."

Hearing that, both Wolfram and Conrad looked over in surprise. Wolfram simply looked irritated and huffed, "Could you not read the sign?"

Conrad, on the other hand, straightened up and cut his brother off as quickly as possible. "Please, pardon us!" he broke in with a surprising amount of urgency. He hastily dropped the bills he'd been counting for the register and abandoned the counter to approach the guests. He bowed-and kept bowing lower and lower as Yuuri watched in amazement. "We're truly honored that you've come to visit. We owe you so much."

Stunned, Yuuri looked between all of the people in the room before settling on Wolfram, who looked possibly more bewildered than he did. At least he wasn't the only one completely left behind.

"Don't concern yourself over it," the one with the long hair answered, flashing Conrad a tiny, polite smile.

Yuuri tried not to be too visibly shocked that this was actually an adult male, judging from his voice. He looked at the still silent party, the blonde man, only to find that he was grinning widely. His aura positively exuded confidence. Yuuri cringed. So he and Wolfram just insulted some really important guys? He bowed just a bit shallowly in apology, despite having no clue who they could be. Wolfram showed no sign of following suit.

"Who is this?" the blonde stranger spoke for the first time, indicating Yuuri with a wave of his hand.

"Allow me to introduce you," Conrad straightened up with a smile, dropping a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "This is Shibuya Yuuri, our only new hire so far. And, I'm sure you've guessed, but that's Wolfram back there."

Yuuri peeked behind him to see that Wolfram had reeled back in surprise. He looked kind of offended. _Well, it must be strange to find out some strangers randomly know you._

"Hmm," the shorter man answered thoughtfully. He couldn't really tell, what with the sunglasses at all, but Yuuri thougt he felt the weight of his gaze on him.

"Yuuri, Wolfram, this is..." Conrad dragged off uncertainly, glancing at the guests.

"Don't bother," the blonde man waved his hand dismissively. "We only came here to discuss something with you and Gwendal."

"Of course," Conrad promptly dropped the introduction. "If you'd just follow me, then..."

Yuuri watched in silence as the glamorous strangers followed Conrad into the back room. So they really were mega-celebs? With concealed identities and all? He looked to Wolfram again to confirm that he was, indeed, just as clueless as he was.

Right, they were supposed to be preparing the cafe for opening. He'd have to forget the mega-celebs, as he'd dubbed them, for now.

And forget he did.


End file.
